


Never Mind The Boggarts

by somekindofpath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Boarding School, Class Differences, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, It's just a hilarious pun, M/M, Marauders' Era, Mentions of Cancer, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Past Domestic Violence, Punk, Resistance, Sirius hates rules, Sorry Not Sorry, There are no boggarts in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-06-24 13:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 81,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindofpath/pseuds/somekindofpath
Summary: Late October, 1977. The Sex Pistols have just released their debut album, sparking a moral panic in Britain's press. And at Hogwarts School in Scotland - where lessons are optional and students are free to do as they please - the beloved headmaster Dumbledore has been forced to resign by angry parents.He is replaced by Dolores Umbridge, and she has some new rules.1. Curfew is at 8pm2. All clubs are suspended, including rugby3. Punk music is banned4. Romantic relationships are forbidden5. No one will question the new rulesThe students have other ideas.





	1. Prologue - Wednesday, 1st December, 1976

**Author's Note:**

> This idea began with a true news story about a boarding school in Wales which banned students from relationships. It was Umbridge come to life, and although I hadn't written any fanfiction in a decade, I immediately had the urge to write a fun little one shot about how the Marauders would react to the rule.
> 
> Six months later, I have written 80,000 words on power, class and resistance. Also punk music. Also making out. Whoops?
> 
> Big thanks to Bethan for her wonderful beta skills, and many lunchtime plot chats.

The sixth-year Gryffindors were all gathered around the small television in the common room when it happened.   
  
The Christmas tree had arrived overnight, appearing in the morning as if by magic, as it always did on December 1st. A large box of ratty Christmas tree decorations had appeared with it; it was tradition for the older students to decorate it that evening, giving the tree their own twist. Usually that “twist” was, rather unimaginatively, Gryffindor red and gold.

But that year, Marlene McKinnon took charge. She skipped classes in order to spend all day painting the baubles black. Then she had strung together hundreds of safety pins to make a long, thin garland to wrap around the tree in lieu of tinsel. It looked strangely brilliant.

“Happy punk Christmas!” she declared once it was done.

Sirius, meanwhile, put himself in charge of keeping the rest of the students liquidated, mixing up a strong, bright-red Christmas punch with cranberry juice and rum.

So by the time Bill Grundy’s Today show came on at six, everyone was feeling very merry (in both senses of the word).

“Look - it’s the Sex Pistols!” said McKinnon, her voice low and reverent, when the band appeared on screen in front of them.

Everyone had been talking about this band for weeks. The newspapers were full of their scandalous exploits: how the lead singer, Johnny Rotten, had been spotted because he used to walk up and down King’s Road in Chelsea - not far from Sirius’s family home - spitting at people “because they were stupid”. There were near-hysterical editorials about the fights that regularly broke out at gigs. There was a rumour that one girl had lost an eye in all the madness, and that someone else had their ear bitten off. To the media, the band seemed to signal the end of civilisation itself.

According to the cousins and friends of Hogwarts students who were lucky enough to go to a gig, it was the start of a revolution.

On screen, Grundy joked that the band were “as drunk as I am!” and James Potter cheered, raising his glass up to the TV in a toast, and throwing his arm around Sirius’s shoulders.

“They look horrible,” Lily Evans sniffed, moving away from them - but still, Sirius noted, cradling a glass of punch in her hand.

It was true that the men and women on TV were unlike any Sirius had ever seen before. They were laughing and sneering at Grundy (who was, to be fair, a bit of an idiot). One of the blokes in the back was wearing a swastika armband. One of the women was wearing a white shirt, black trousers and braces. She she had short, peroxide blonde hair and was smoking a cigarette in the studio.

“She’s fit,” Sirius said, oddly entranced.

“That’s Siouxsie Sioux,” McKinnon told him. She whispered the name like it was holy.

Grundy asked the band about classical artists like Beethoven and Mozart, and the camera cut to Johnny Rotten. There was something electric about him. He had the face of a madman, his eyes wide as he rocked back and forth and muttered to himself. “Oh yeah,” he said. “They  _ really  _ turn us on…”

“Suppose they turn other people on?” asked Grundy.

“What is he going on about?” asked James, as Rotten mumbled something else.

“What?” asked Grundy.

“Nothing. A rude word,” said Rotten. “Next question!”

“No, no, what was the rude word?” pressed Grundy.

“Shit.”

The Gryffindors burst out laughing. “Oh my God!” Peter Pettigrew exclaimed, almost falling out of his chair

“Is he allowed to say that on TV?” asked Evans, looking horrified.

“Definitely not,” snorted Sirius. He hoped his parents were watching; his father was probably already on the phone to complain to the BBC about proper decorum.

“They’re brilliant,” James decided.

“What do you reckon, Remus?” Sirius asked, elbowing the boy next to him.

Remus Lupin tried to keep his face impassive, but the corner of his mouth tugged up anyway. “Very uncouth,” he said, low enough that only Sirius could hear. “No wonder you love them.”

Meanwhile, the interview had descended into chaos. “Go on, you’ve got another five seconds,” Grundy said. “Say something outrageous.”

“You dirty bastard!” said another band member, who was wearing a sleeveless white shirt with a black-and-white photograph of breasts across the chest. 

“Go on, again,” goaded Grundy.

“You dirty fucker… What a fucking rotter.”

“Holy shit,” said Sirius, as the Gryffindors fell into stunned silence. James's mouth was wide open. Evans had covered her face in shock. McKinnon was beaming.

This had never happened before.

No one swore on the BBC - certainly not at 6pm on a Wednesday night. Something was happening. These people were breaking every rule in the book, live on television, and grinning as they did it. They looked wild. They looked magical.

They were starting something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling festive, so I wrote a prologue. This was a real incident which you can watch [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtHPhVhJ7Rs). It's hard to overstate how controversial it was to swear on TV at the time. ["One viewer said that he had been so outraged that he had kicked in the screen of his new £380 television set."](https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/1976/dec/03/greatinterviews)
> 
> Happy Christmas!


	2. Thursday, 27th October, 1977

It made the newspapers.

Normally, the daily copy of _The Times_ lay unopened in the Gryffindor common room, occasionally ransacked for the sports section, but with news, comment and - god forbid - finance tossed unfeelingly beneath one of the plump red sofas.

Not that day. It was right there, on page 6, just below a story about another fight between punks and skinheads at a Sex Pistols gig.

**Top boarding school head ousted by enraged parents**

They had a picture of the Hogwarts grounds, inlaid with a small portrait of Professor Dumbledore, squinting and smiling at the camera.

Lily Evans was furious. The newspaper was shaking in her hands, she had been staring at the article for a full minute, but she couldn't get past the headline. All she could think about was how sad Dumbledore had looked after he had made his farewell speech at dinner the night before.

“It seems, my friends, that we must part,” he had told them, peering over his ridiculous little glasses. “It's not what I wanted, of course, but all good things must come to an end. My only regret is that we did not serve more rice pudding with jam. Auf wiedersehen, good night!”

The hall had erupted in cheers, a standing ovation, and Sirius Black wolf whistled as Dumbledore stepped down from the stage. But Lily had seen her headmaster’s face fall as soon as it turned away. She had seen how the other teachers looked grim faced and afraid. How a tall, threatening stranger had been waiting at the back of the Great Hall the whole time, and how he had escorted Dumbledore off the premises.

Honestly - it was just like him to make a silly joke about rice pudding rather than address what had happened. It was just like him not to give them any real words of comfort or advice, but to leave them to their own devices. She was so cross, she had hardly been able to speak for 12 hours.

“Are you going to read it, or tear it in half?” Black drawled, snapping her back to the present.

She glared at him. It was his fault; his awful family that had done this.

But that wasn't true really. Everyone knew that Black would shed his surname in a second if only someone would tell him how. And everyone had heard him cursing his parents down the phone in the entrance hall at the top of his lungs after Dumbledore had left.

“I'm reading it,” she told him shortly.

“Out loud!” demanded a brave second year, and the other little ones all nodded, staring at her like maybe she was in charge now. (As head girl, maybe she actually was.)

“All right.” She cleared her throat. “There were dramatic scenes at one of Britain's most controversial boarding schools yesterday, after long-term Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore was asked to resign with immediate effect by the parents' board of trustees.

“Hogwarts School, in Scotland, is known for its unconventional teaching styles. Students are allowed to decide what they learn for themselves, and even whether to attend lessons. But it seems Mr Dumbledore's 'unconventional' behaviour had gone too far for the concerned parents.  
  
“‘It was a safety issue,’ said Orion Black, 7th Earl of Grimsby, head of top law firm Black & Black LLP and chair of the parents board.”  
  
Lily paused to glance up at Sirius. He stared back at her coolly. She looked down again, gripping the paper tightly.  
  
“We - um - ‘We heard some unfortunate rumours about the distasteful company Mr Dumbledore keeps after hours, and decided it was best he step down.’  
  
“His wife and fellow-board member, Walburga Black, agreed. ‘You never know how these things will spread. I would never want my boys in such an unsavoury atmosphere and now they won't have to be.’  
  
“Both declined to elaborate on the nature of the rumours in question. Mr Dumbledore has now left the premises, and a new headmaster will be installed in due course.  
  
“‘The board is currently assessing candidates,’ said Mr Black. ‘But it's fair to say that Hogwarts can expect some big changes very soon. An interim-head will take care of things in the meantime.’  
  
“The school, which traces its history back 800 years, has fallen down the results league tables in recent years. Once a traditional boarding school, its libertarian educational style was introduced by Mr Dumbledore in the late 1960s.

“Not all parents were pleased with the decision. Retired chemicals tycoon Fleamont Potter, whose son is head boy and captain of the school rugby team, called the decision ‘regrettable’ and wished Mr Dumbledore well.

“Comments made by his wife Euphemia Potter were unsuitable for a newspaper of record. Suffice to say, she also found the decision regrettable.

“Mr Dumbledore was unavailable for comment.”

She stopped reading. The article ended there. She was glad - she wasn't sure her voice would stay steady for much longer. She didn't know if she wanted to cry or break things, but she knew it wouldn't help the row of worried faces looking back at her.

“It's bollocks,” said James Potter loudly, and for once she was relieved to hear his opinion. “They wouldn't even say what the rumours were!”

“We know what they were,” Black pointed out with a shrug. “He was a poof.”

“So?” Potter demanded. “It was part of his charm. It's not like he ever got off with a student. I bet this new bloke's going to be a right twat... ‘expect big changes…’ how about I _expect_ you to stick your head up your arse, how's that for a big change?”

“All right,” Lily said half-heartedly, as the second years giggled. Clearly Potter took after his mum. “Not in front of the kids.”

“Come off it, Evans,” Black said. “We all know you loved him. You know you want to do a little swear. Go on - do a little swear, just for us. For Dumbledear.”

“Piss off.”

He looked satisfied.

The bell rang, calling them to breakfast, and Black gave a woop of excitement, racing Potter towards the door and then tackling him with the full force of a rugby player. Their friends, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, followed behind, rolling their eyes at the scuffle. Meanwhile, the kids had taken their cue from Black and Potter, and were laughing and playfighting as they rushed out of the room and down the grand staircase towards breakfast, all tension dissolved at the prospect of food.

She stayed behind to tidy up and collect her thoughts, not worrying too much about being late. The timetable at Hogwarts was more of a guideline than a strict schedule; the breakfast bell didn’t signify “you must go to the Great Hall now” as much as “grub’s up, be quick or all the good stuff will be gone”.

And anyway, the remaining teachers surely had other things on their minds today.

Someone cleared their throat, and she jumped, turning to see Severus Snape standing in the doorframe. He must have come all the way across the grounds from Slytherin house. (The coldest and grimmest of the four boarding houses, a badge they wore with pride. Personally, Lily thought the harsh conditions had made them all mean.)

“Lily,” he said. “Can we talk?”

“No,” she snapped, anger boiling up again at the sight of him. She stalked past him, careful not to let their bodies touch in the wide doorway, and stomped down the stairs.

He didn't follow her.

She sighed.

She was going to have to come up with a plan.

*

The interim-head arrived that evening. Rumours had been swirling about him all day. Sirius had heard Regulus's smug voice milking the attention during lunch. “Of course, it's about time this school raised its standards; we've been letting in riff-raff for far too long. And my father would never let anyone take over unless they were of the highest calibre. We don't stand for mediocrity in my family, you know. Well... most of us don't.”  
  
Sirius had gripped his fork so hard that later he noticed there was a red mark embedded into his palm. But just as he was about to stand and start pounding on his little brother, he felt cool fingers press on the back of his fist.  
  
He glanced to his left, still seething, and Remus gave him a tight smile. “Don't,” he said. “It's not worth getting in trouble.”  
  
“It is, too,” Sirius mumbled. But he loosened his grip on his fork.  
  
Remus drew his hand away, and Sirius's skin felt cold.  
  
“Well lads, I heard the new headmaster is going to be Bobby Charlton,” James said loudly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

Sirius stared at him. “What are you on about?”  
  
James raised his voice even louder. “Yep. Poor bloke's feeling a bit lost since he left Man U. Wants to give education a try. Invest in the youth.”  
  
“Really?” asked a breathless nearby first year. James grinned at her.  
  
“Yep. That's what my dad told me. Said that after Dumbledore Hogwarts would never accept anything less than a world cup champion.”  
  
He was attracting more bewildered looks now - including from Regulus at the Slytherin table.  
  
“Come off it, Potter,” he snapped, cheeks glowing pink the way they always used to when he'd been caught doing something naughty. “Bobby Charlton is not going to be our headmaster. He's not even a teacher.”  
  
“I think you'll find he taught this county plenty about integrity of character and the perfect long range shot.”  
  
Sirius snorted, and Peter was giggling the way he always did when his friends decided to make a scene.  
  
“That's preposterous,” Regulus said.  
  
“Don't listen to him,” sneered Snape. “He's doing it for the attention.”  
  
“Excuse me. I'm head boy. Are you saying I'd knowingly spread false rumours about our hallowed halls of learning? And on dear Professor Charlton's first day?”  
  
Remus let out a soft chuckle, and grinned when Sirius caught his eye.  
  
Soon, the Slytherins decided to ignore James - but Regulus didn't return to his own boasting either, and for approximately the thousandth time, Sirius praised the day that he had been placed in the same dormitory as these idiots, rather than with Snape in the Slytherin house.  
  
By dinnertime things had gotten out of hand, however, and at least six different football players were rumoured to be somewhere on the grounds.  
  
Even though he knew James had made the whole thing up, Sirius was still surprised when they entered the great hall at 6pm and laid eyes on the new head sitting in Dumbledore's old chair.  
  
In truth he had been expecting another old white man, but one without any of Dumbledore's quirks. Someone posh and clean-shaven in an ugly tie, a bit like Sirius's father himself. Or perhaps, if enough parents on the board were still wedded to Dumbledore's “philosophy”, they would find a hippyish revolutionary type who loved the sound of his own voice - Hogwarts often attracted those kinds of teachers, always convinced they would save the world one kid at a time. They usually got bored after a few months and left.

Instead, sitting in Dumbledore’s chair was a woman.  
  
She was short and plump, with a big black bow in her hair and a pink skirt suit. And she was young - although her face was squashed in like a pug, and her clothes hopelessly out of date, she must still have only been in her late 20s.  
  
The four of them sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Frank Longbottom and Alice Fortescue, a nice but somewhat nauseating couple who had been going out since third year. Alice was sitting on Frank's lap, whispering into his ear with her arm around his shoulders.  
  
“Get a room,” Sirius told them.  
  
“Oh, hey guys,” Frank said, blushing slightly as Alice pulled away. “Did you hear? Someone saw George Best in the car park.”  
  
“No!” Peter gasped, looking around him like George might be standing behind him.  
  
“Come on, Peter,” said Remus. “George Best isn't our new head - you _heard_ James start that rumour this morning. Anyway, it's a woman. She's sitting right there.”  
  
“Who said anything about a head? Bestie's here to scout for talent.”  
  
“Why would he come to a rugby school to look for football talent?” Alice asked her boyfriend, incredulous. “We barely even have a football team.”  
  
Frank shrugged. “I'm just saying what I heard.”  
  
“Hem hem.”  
  
The noise came from the teacher's table at the front of the Great Hall. It was so quiet that Sirius almost missed it the first time; the whole place was thrumming with the usual chatter of 500 hungry students. But then he heard it again, slightly louder.  
  
“Hem hem.”  
  
He looked around. The woman had stood up, and was watching them all expectantly. He nudged James and nodded towards her, and James frowned.

“What?”  
  
“I think she wants to make a speech or something.”  
  
“Why doesn't she just say so?”  
  
“I dunno.”  
  
“Hem hem!”  
  
“Oi!” James bellowed, rising out of his chair and addressing the room. “Shut it, you lot!”  
  
The students finally went quiet, and he sat back down and gave the woman a salute.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said. “What is your name?”  
  
“James Potter, ma'am,” he told her, standing again and giving his trademark grin. “Head boy.”  
  
“I see. And is that how you usually gather the attention of the students in your charge?”  
  
He shrugged. “When they're being a pain, yeah.”  
  
“I see. And Professor Dumbledore, he allowed such uncouth displays at dinner?”  
  
James ran his fingers through his hair, looking a little put-out. “I think he appreciated the help.”  
  
“I see. Well, as I am sure you are all aware, Professor Dumbledore has now departed this school. And as interim-headmistress, I will not appreciate your ‘help’ if it comes in such an insolent package, do we understand each other?”  
  
“Er. You don't want me to yell at the students?”  
  
“I do not wish you to ‘yell’ at anyone. In fact, you and the head girl can see me after dinner to discuss your conduct in general.” She let out a girlish giggle, shaking her head slightly. “If this is how the student body's finest behave, my task is going to be even harder than I thought.”  
  
Evans, who was sitting a few seats down from them, glared at James, clearly annoyed that she had already been tarred with his brush. He shot her back an apologetic grimace as he sat down.  
  
Loser.  
  
The great hall was silent, waiting to see what the woman would do next. Regulus had a shit-eating grin that made Sirius think about punching him again.

“My name is Professor Umbridge,” she said, her high-pitched voice ringing around the hall’s ancient acoustics. “And I am here because this school's once spotless reputation is in serious peril. It has slipped down the league tables for independent schools three years in a row. The average number of graduating students who go on to attend university has halved in the last decade. And numerous parents have complained to the board about their children's behaviour when they return home for the holidays. In fact, the only area in which this school apparently still excels is in its rugby team. And that, I’m sure you will agree, is hardly something to be _proud_ of.”  
  
James threw Sirius an alarmed look.  
  
She went on. “It seems that Professor Dumbledore has been filling your heads with all sorts of nonsense. He has been encouraging you to explore ‘new ideas’ and question the authority of your elders. He has been telling you that grades are not as important as ‘life skills’. He has been letting manners and traditions slip in favour of you being free to ‘express yourselves’. I have heard tell of childish pranks going unpunished, students skipping lessons and staying out of bed after hours, illicit relationships which distract from your studies.”  
  
Alice let out an involuntary snort of laughter, and then slapped a hand over her mouth.  
  
Professor Umbridge glanced over at her, smile frozen in place, and then continued.  
  
“Meanwhile, so-called ‘punk’ music has been telling you and your peers that anarchy is something to be admired. I can assure you all that it is not. That is why I will be introducing some new rules.” Her smile faded slightly as she leaned forwards, placing her hands on the table in front of her and surveying the room carefully. “You all lack discipline. It's not your fault - these are troubled times; many of you come from unsavoury backgrounds, and order can only come from your superiors. But believe me, you will have it now.”

“Unsavoury!” Evans hissed, looking outraged. (Typical Evans; she was always outraged about something.)  
  
“Firstly, I will be introducing an 8pm curfew. Any student caught outside of their common room or dormitories after this time will be given immediate detention. If it happens three times, you will be expelled.”  
  
The room burst into protests.  
  
“Even the sixth and seventh years?” asked Frank loudly.  
  
“What about weekends?” demanded someone from the Hufflepuff table.  
  
“What about after-school clubs?” asked a Ravenclaw.

Umbridge held up a hand to silence them. “The curfew applies to all students, and will be raised to 9pm on Fridays and Saturdays - _if_ you prove to me that you deserve it. All after-school clubs will henceforth be suspended until I have assessed whether they are appropriate for young minds.”  
  
The hall erupted into angry shouts again, and Umbridge was forced to raise her voice. “Secondly,” she said, smiling at the students until the noise died down. “All students will attend all of their timetabled lessons. Anyone who interrupts a member of the faculty, questions their decisions, or otherwise disrupts the learning process will also receive detention. All further punishments will be decided by myself, and repeated truants or rule-breakers _will_ be expelled.”  
  
She paused and glanced around the room again. This time, the silence was so profound it felt like a physical presence.

“Ah, I see you are learning already,” she simpered, clasping her hands together and smiling sweetly at their response. “Thirdly, I do not want to hear any of you playing profane music. The ‘punk’ movement is a toxic blight on this great nation. It is disgusting and obscene and I will not have it in this school.”

She was mad, Sirius decided, thinking of his precious records in the dormitory. It was true that ever since the Queen’s Jubilee earlier that year - which had coincided with the release of God Save The Queen - the media had tailspinned even further into a full moral crisis about The Sex Pistols. One paper had accused them of vomiting on old ladies in Heathrow, while another had labelled the song treason and called for the entire band to be hanged.

But everyone knew that was nonsense, didn't they? It was still only music. The idea that any kind of music would be banned at Hogwarts, a school which prized freedom of expression above all else, was absurd.

In fact, the only thing more absurd was the idea that Hogwarts students would actually comply.

“Finally, I cannot help but notice that some of you have formed romantic attachments to one another.”  
  
Frank coughed. Other couples around the room - who for as long as Sirius could remember had been allowed to hold hands, sit on laps, and even sometimes snog during dinner - suddenly looked uncomfortable.  
  
Umbridge continued. “I firmly believe that this is inappropriate at your age. School is a time for learning, not flirting. Distracting relationships will almost certainly take away time from your studies, which will undoubtedly affect your final grades. As such, I will not allow them to take place at this school. Any student in a relationship that is romantic in nature will find themselves starting a new school in January. If you are in your final year, you can rest assured that the relationship will affect my references to universities. There will be plenty of time for such dalliances once you have left Hogwarts. But until then, you are all in my care. And my word on these matters is final.”

She gave them all one last sweeping look, and then smiled so broadly that it made the hairs on Sirius's arms stand up.  
  
“Now, don't you all look shocked? Don't worry - I'm not a monster. And if you follow my rules, we will all get along swimmingly. We can turn this school around in less than a year. We're going to have such fun together!”  
  
She clapped her little hands together and let out a shrill laugh. Then she opened her palms wide, and gestured to the side doors where the kitchen staff was waiting to bring in the food. “Tuck in!”  
  
She sat down. The hall burst into rumbled conversation - some students looking angry, others looking scared.  
  
Sirius stared at James, and then at Remus and Peter, and then they all turned to look at Alice and Frank.  
  
Alice slowly slid off Frank's lap and into the empty chair next to him. She looked shocked and pale, like someone had just told her a close relative had died. Frank, meanwhile, looked furious.  
  
“Well, shit,” James said finally. “We're going to have to do something about this.”  
  
Sirius was inclined to agree.

*

James stormed into the dormitory at five minutes to eight that night, still fuming from his meeting with Professor Umbridge.  
  
The room he shared with his three best friends looked like a bomb had hit it. Sirius and Peter seemed to be taking inventory of every instrument of mischief in their possession. There were rows of stinkbombs on the floor, whoopee cushions and firecrackers scattered on Peter's bed, and other miscellaneous items on Sirius's - including a plastic spider, a packet of itching powder, and four fake-nose-and-glasses sets that they had worn for the entire first week of their fourth year.  
  
He had forgotten about that. For a moment he felt his bad mood lift as he basked in the memory. It had been the year Dumbledore had loosened the school’s stuffy old dress code. When the four of them had showed up to the welcome feast with plastic handlebar moustaches, he had beamed at them with such pride...

James shook his head and slammed the door behind him. This was no time to get sentimental. Sirius and Peter jumped at the noise, then grinned at him and both started talking at once.  
  
In the corner, Remus was lying on his bed by the window and reading a book. He licked his finger and turned the page, apparently determined to ignore the commotion.  
  
“What are you doing?” James asked.  
  
“Inventory!” Sirius said, like it was obvious. (And, in fairness to him, it was.)  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because we need to be prepared!” Peter said. “Didn't you hear that pink toad woman? She practically declared war!”  
  
“Pete's right, mate,” Sirius said solemnly. “We can't let her just show up and start imposing _rules_ on us. That's not what Hogwarts is about. Doesn't she know who we are?”  
  
“Who we are?” James repeated. He was being slow - half his mind was still back in Dumbledore's office, watching Umbridge cheerfully sweep the things off his desk and into a bin right in front of them.  
  
“The Marauders!” declared Peter, looking at him like he was completely off his rocker.  
  
The Marauders. Of course. It was a name they had given themselves, half in jest, when they had successfully pulled off their first big prank in second year. (It was so childish: plastic spiders in everybody's soup at lunch; they had kept the one now on Sirius's bed as a momento.)  
  
“You said we'd have to do something about Umbridge,” Sirius told him. “And we all agree - well, apart from Bookface Snoozin over there.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Remus, who raised an eyebrow as he silently turned another page in his book. “So, while you were out doing recon, we decided to take stock. Work out what supplies we're lacking. Honestly, I think we've been letting things slip this year, I know you said being head boy wouldn't change things but you've been a right bore lately.”  
  
“We're not pranking her,” James said.  
  
“You what?”  
  
“We're not pranking her. You heard - it sounds like she's gagging to start expelling people. I think she wants to find someone to make an example out of. And I think she's serious. You should have heard her talking to me and Evans. She was trying to recruit us to be head of her taskforce or something. She wants us to tell her if we see anyone breaking the rules. She called it a Disciplinary Squad.”

Sirius looked delighted. “Perfect! You're already on the inside! We can use that.”

James ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “No. We said we wouldn't do it.”

“Why? You'd be the perfect spy!”

“Because it's wrong, Sirius!”

Sirius burst out laughing. _“It's wrong!”_ he repeated, voice high-pitched and girly. “Come off it. You sound like Evans.”

James could feel himself grinding his teeth. He loved Sirius. He'd do anything for the bloke. But he couldn't half be a git sometimes - especially when he was scared.

“That's it, isn't it? You're being all noble and taking a stand because Evans was there.”

He couldn't even deny it. He'd thought about sabotaging Umbridge from the inside as soon as she'd tried to recruit them. But Lily had got the same blazing look in her eye that she got in class whenever she talked about women's lib, or free milk bottles for kids, or whatever it was she was on the warpath about that week. It made him feel a bit faint. Sometimes he played devil's advocate and tried to challenge her arguments just to see her get that look again. When he saw it in her eyes in Dumbledore's - Umbridge's - office, he knew he was done for.

She was going to take a stand. And he’d be damned if he wasn't going down with her.

“I just think we should be more subtle. We can't start throwing stinkbombs around - we’ll get expelled and then how will we help anyone?”

“She won't expel me,” Sirius scoffed. “My parents probably got her this job. She wouldn't dare. And your parents paid for the new library last year.”

“Well she'd expel Pete!” James pointed out, more loudly than he’d intended, and Peter jumped in alarm. “His parents would have wasted all the fee money they work three jobs to scrape together. And she won’t give a fig about expelling Remus, on his scholarship. She probably doesn't even believe in scholarships, she kept going on about the school's ‘pedigree’ to us, like we were prize poodles or something. She clearly doesn't know about Evans yet.”

James thought back to the disgust on Lily's face as Umbridge waxed lyrical about importance of schools like Hogwarts (read: elite private schools) keeping “people like us” (read: rich people) in the “highest echelons” of society.

Lily was at Hogwarts on a scholarship too, just like Remus. She tried her best to smooth her accent - but it slipped out when she was angry. He was pretty sure she was from Bradford, and that her dad was a milkman. When he first took over at Hogwarts, back in the 60s, Dumbledore had caused a huge controversy by spending the money earmarked for renovations and a new gym on creating 50 scholarships for bright kids in disadvantaged areas around Britain.

Honestly, sometimes it was hard to believe Dumbledore had lasted as long as he did.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Sirius asked, and he had that look in his eye like he was about to deck someone. James had seen it more times today that he had in weeks.

He sighed. “I'm still working on it.”

Sirius scoffed, and kicked at a bedpost. “Well, let us know when you're ready to fill us in,” he said, and stalked out.

“Don't leave the common room!” James warned him.

“Piss off!” He slammed the door behind him, and James groaned.

“He's going to get expelled, isn't he?” Peter asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and surveying the mess around them wistfully.

James picked his way over to his bed, mercifully free of joke shop merchandise, and sank down onto it. “He's going to try.”

Remus snapped his book shut, swung his legs over to the floor, and stood.

“I'm going to make sure he's okay,” he said quietly. They were the first words he'd spoken since James had returned. He sounded worried.

“Don't leave the common room,” James told him. “I mean it - Sirius can talk his way out of trouble because of his parents, but I don't want her finding an excuse to punish you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said. “I'm poor. I remember. Don't wait up.”

He shut the door behind him, more softly than Sirius had, but James couldn't help feeling that it was a Remus Lupin version of a slam.

He looked at Peter. Peter looked back.

“Strawberry and cream?” Peter asked, pulling a pink and white sweet out of his pocket and offering it to James.

He sighed. “Sure. Thanks, mate.”

*

Remus found Sirius outside, behind the boys’ changing rooms, his favourite spot to smoke his secret cigarettes. (He said it was because all the BO helped cover the smell. Really, Remus knew it was because there were no classroom windows that could give him away to a beady-eyed teacher working after hours. Banning smoking was one of the few rules they actually imposed on the students. Until today of course.)

“Careful,” Sirius said when he saw him approaching. “You might get expelled.”

He looked utterly miserable. His firm, slender shoulders were hunched up so that his leather jacket dwarfed him; whereas usually it hung off his frame like he had just stepped off the set of a Hollywood film about rebellious teenage ruffians. His eyes were dark and moody, and the glossy black strands of hair that usually swept artfully over his forehead had been pushed back in frustration. He must have been running his hands through them, a nervous tick he got from James. For a bizarre moment, Remus wanted to reach up and brush them back into place.

“Don't be a twat,” he said instead, leaning against the wall next to him and holding out his hand. Sirius passed him the cigarette, and Remus took a long drag.

Technically he wasn't supposed to smoke - doctor's orders - but naturally that only made the occasional puff all the more satisfying.

“Shit, it's cold out here.” It was the final few days of October. They had been back just a few weeks before Dumbledore's ousting had come out of nowhere and ruined everything. This was supposed to be their final year of glory. Instead, they had spent the last 36 hours twitchy and angry and afraid, and Remus was fairly sure that things would never be the same again.

He passed the fag back to Sirius and rubbed his hands together, blowing on his fingers to try and warm them up. His breath came out of his mouth in a cloud of crystals.

“You didn't have to follow me,” Sirius said suddenly, and Remus blinked. “Really. I'm fine - I'm not like, a maiden you need to rescue.”

“Bloody hell,” Remus said. “Obviously.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Fancied the walk,” Remus said, shrugging, and Sirius snorted.

“You're shivering. You're like a kitten - here, take this.” He passed Remus the cigarette and shrugged off his jacket.

“Sirius - you don't have to - Christ, I'm not a maiden either, you know.”

“Just wear the bloody jacket. I can't have you getting sick on my conscience as well, James will have a fit.”

Remus sighed, and took the jacket. He was wearing one of his favourite jumpers, but it was getting ragged. It had been stupid not to grab his coat on the way out. When he pulled the jacket on, it was too big for him - he was taller than Sirius, but skinnier, and he certainly had none of the rugby muscles.

“Looks good,” Sirius smirked.

“Shut up.”

“No, really. You're a dream. My heart's all a-flutter.”

“I thought we'd agreed that Dumbledore was the poof?”

Sirius's expression, which had regained some of its playful energy, got dark again. He slumped back against the wall and kicked at some stones.

“What did you mean, as well?” Remus asked.

“What?” Sirius grunted.

“You said you couldn't have me getting sick on your conscience _as well._ What's there already?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“You can tell me.”

“It's nothing. Look - did you come here to talk about ruddy _feelings_ or to help me hatch a plan?”

“Er,” said Remus. He weighed up his options. Sirius was clearly in one of his dark spirals, and whenever that happened, it was usually best if one of them was there to keep him going too far off the rails. Usually it was James - but James’s newfound nobility seemed to be feeding this one.

Helping Sirius to “hatch a plan” would definitely put Remus at risk of detention, and - if Umbridge was to be believed - expulsion. The idea of telling his parents he'd been kicked out of school just nine months before getting his A Levels was not very appealing. They were so proud of him - it was actually sort of painful to be around. He'd been chosen, out of all the other kids on their estate. He still got good grades, even considering his _special circumstances._ Telling them he'd thrown it all away for a few pranks would devastate them.

But then - it wouldn't be for a few pranks, would it? It would be for Sirius.

Sirius, an angry rich kid with a chip on his shoulder.

Sirius, who was hurting, and looking at him with big grey eyes like Remus was his last hope.

Sirius, his best friend.

“I'm here to hatch a plan,” he said firmly.

Sirius smiled so wide, Remus could have sworn the sun had come back up. “Good,” he said, and bumped his shoulder against Remus's fondly. “I knew I could count on you.”

Remus was about to respond, although he couldn't for the life of him think what the words were going to be.

But then a torchlight flashed in his eyes.

“Aha!” cried a triumphant voice, and Remus's heart sank. “Thought you'd test out if the new headmistress was serious about her curfew, eh?”

It was Filch, the janitor.

“Just fancied a shag, actually,” Sirius said coolly. “Do you mind? We’re about to start.”

He slung an arm around Remus's shoulders. Remus groaned.

“Headmistress?” Filch crowed into a crackling walkie-talkie. “I found a couple of chancers out of bed. And one of em’s got a smart mouth.”

“Wonderful,” came Umbridge's voice - and even distorted through the ancient machine in Filch’s hand, it still made Remus shiver. “I was so hoping you would find someone. Bring them to my office, please, Mr Filch.”

He grinned, and Remus grimaced at the sight of his yellow and missing teeth. “With pleasure, Ma’am.”

*

It was seeing Alice in tears that really did it for Lily. Her friend was usually so joyful and optimistic. But when Lily got back after the meeting with Potter and Umbridge, Alice was in their dorm room weeping on the bed. Their roommates - Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon - were tastefully absent, but Frank was sitting next to her and rubbing her back. He stood when Lily walked in.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know I’m not supposed to be here, I don’t want to get you in trouble. It’s just… Alice was so upset.”

“You were upset too, you half-wit,” Alice sniffed, wiping her eyes. She looked at Lily. “Are we really going to be expelled for being together?”

“No,” Lily said fiercely. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” She walked to her bed and sat down tiredly. “At least… I don’t think so. I don’t know. I think she might try to discredit you in your university reference though.”

“Oh god,” Alice said. She wanted to be a doctor - she’d been preparing her application to medical school all year. A bad reference could make all the difference. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to choose?”

“You’re not,” Frank said firmly. “Is she, Lily? You’ve… you’ve got a plan, right? Remember when you got Dumbledore to introduce vegetarian options at dinner? And start a women’s rugby team? And put more women on the English reading lists? You’re going to stand up to Umbridge too, right?”

They both looked at her hopefully. It was true - she had done all that. The difference was, Dumbledore had loved it. When she appeared in his office with a new idea or a petition, his eyes would twinkle at her with pride. When he had sent her a letter that summer asking her to be head girl, he had included a long paragraph listing all of the ways she had helped him “bring their school philosophy to life”.

But she had never actually risked anything to change the school before. She had never broken any rules to get her voice heard. And she had never had to persuade someone who didn’t want to be persuaded.

Out of nowhere, she thought of Potter’s face in Dumbledore’s - _Umbridge’s_ \- office. As the new head explained to them how _valuable_ they could be in helping her to enforce a new order, Lily had almost started arguing back right there. She wouldn’t use her power to snitch on her friends for things that she didn’t think were a problem, and she was insulted to even be asked.

But then James had caught her eye, and he looked so _relaxed_. He’d actually winked at her, right there in the office, as if they were already in cahoots. It was like he knew she was about to blow up, and he was telling her - what? That he was on her side for once? (Really on her side, not just desperately trying to get her to go out with him, despite apparently thinking that all her ideas were stupid.) Was he telling her that he had a plan, and she shouldn’t make a scene yet? How could he be so _calm_?

It had been enough to make her hold her tongue though, and calmly explain (with Potter nodding along like they'd planned it) that she didn't feel comfortable enforcing rules that she didn't understand yet.

As much as she hated to admit it, Potter would be a good ally if she decided to take on Umbridge. As head boy and girl, their actions would have more weight together than apart. And he certainly knew a few things about causing a scene - if they combined his talent for pulling off spectacular pranks with her knowledge of activism, maybe they had a chance.

He would drive her nuts in the process, for sure. But this wasn’t about her, was it? It was about all of them.

“Yeah,” she said finally, and Frank and Alice beamed at her. “I’m going to stand up to her.”

“Thank God. So what’s the plan?”

Crap. She hadn’t got that far.

“...I’m still working on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This non-magical version of Hogwarts (pre-Umbridge) is loosely based on a real democratic boarding school in England called Summerhill, which was founded by AS Neill in the 1920s. In this timeline, Dumbledore takes over a much older school and reforms it in the 1960s, inspired by Summerhill and the free schools which were being founded in working class areas at the time.


	3. Friday, 28th October, 1977

James had barely slept a wink. Sirius and Remus hadn't returned to their dorm for four hours - when they finally got back at midnight, James sat up and demanded they explain themselves.

“Filch found us,” Remus mumbled, while Sirius kicked off his heavy boots furiously.

“Found you doing what?”

“Smoking.”

“For _four hours_? Remus - I don't want to sound like your mother, but that can't be healthy.”

“We weren't smoking for four hours, you ponce,” Sirius snarled. “He took us to _her_ and then she made us sit outside her office for two hours, and when she finally saw us she lectured us for a bloody age before giving us detention.”

“She just left you out in the corridor? It's freezing in those corridors at night.”

Most rooms in the ancient castle were fitted with fireplaces and rickety radiators, so heat could at least try to circulate. But the corridors had no such luxuries. And at night, without hundreds of sweaty kids giving off body heat, walking between rooms felt like crossing the Arctic.

“Whatever. She's just making an example of us. Are you done questioning us, or can we get some sleep?”

James looked at Remus, who had changed into his stripey old man pyjamas and was rubbing his arms for warmth. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” he snapped, and James flinched. The rest of them were always sniping at each other - it was part of what made them feel like brothers - but it was different with Remus. He so rarely got angry with people.

Only James seemed to be making all his friends angry lately - except Peter of course, quietly and dependably snoring in the corner.

“Night then,” he sighed, and lay back down.

But he couldn't sleep. His mind was racing, putting the final touches on his plan.

Of course, by breakfast time, that meant he'd only managed to get three hours' sleep, and actually putting said plan into action felt increasingly unlikely.

He had been waiting in one of the squashy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room since 7am, reading the paper, not wanting to miss his opportunity. His roommates had all given him strange looks when he said he'd meet them for breakfast later, but it wasn't important. He needed to stay here... He needed to wait for her...

When the breakfast bell rang, he jumped awake again.

Crap - how long had he been asleep? Had he missed her?

He looked around wildly - and jumped again when he saw her standing in the doorway of the girls' staircase. The sun was streaming in from the window and lighting up her golden red hair. She looked exhausted too. She was beautiful.

“Evans!” he said, and his voice came out squeakier than he intended. “I was waiting for you. We should discuss our next move.”

He waited for her to scoff, or call him a stalker, or a constipated half-blind giraffe with a superiority complex, or one of her other delightful insults. Instead she nodded seriously and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes,” she said, “That's a good idea. I've been up all night thinking about it.”

He grinned. They were so alike! To think they'd both been awake, and plotting, at the same time - just a couple of staircases and some cold stone walls between them! It was enough to make a man weak at the knees.

Thankfully, he was already sitting down, and so his swooning joints were not very noticeable.

“Good. Well…”

“I think we should break the rules,” she blurted out suddenly.

At the same time, he said, “I think we should keep out of trouble.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning, her face flushing red.

She was blushing! His morning was getting better and better. He could barely remember being tired. He felt like he could run a mile.

“I'm thinking of you,” he explained, “and your unblemished reputation.”

“I don't mind blemishing it,” she insisted, lifting her chin determinedly and staring him down. She had obviously spent all night convincing herself of this. “It's for a good cause.”

“Your newfound disobedience is charming and alluring, Evans,” he said and she glared at him. “Really, I'm touched. But it's misplaced for now. We can put some heat on her the old fashioned way, without breaking a single one of her fascist rules. I've got just the ticket.”

“What?”

He slapped the copy of yesterday's _Times_ down onto his lap, slightly crumpled, but still open at page six. The picture of their school, and Dumbledore's tiny face, looked up at them.

“The same way all of history's winners did it: we get the media on our side.”

*

Ever since Peter had agreed to be Sirius's chemistry partner over a year ago, he had left every lesson sending a silent prayer of thanks that his eyebrows were still attached to his face.

It was Dumbledore's fault - he wanted the teachers to emphasise “hands-on learning experiences” rather than worry too much about grades.

Which was great for Peter, because his grades stank anyway so it was nice not to feel guilty about them. (The only reason he even showed up to classes, which until yesterday were optional, was that his friends wanted qualifications and Peter got bored with roaming the hallways by himself.) But Dumbledore wasn’t the one in the firing line as Sirius experimented with sticking things in the Bunsen burner.

He blamed James and Remus too, because they were obsessed with taking wanky arts subjects, always reading books or poking into the past, and so they were no longer in any of the classes he and Sirius took.

Sirius wasn't even burning anything exciting today, he was just tearing bits out of his textbook. It was like his heart wasn't in it.

All of Peter's friends were in such bad moods this morning. The whole school had felt weird ever since Dumbledore had left. People kept muttering together in pairs, like they were plotting, but no one was muttering anything to him. When he'd asked Sirius what had happened with Remus the night before, he just shrugged and said he didn't want to talk about it. That's when he'd given up on whatever they were supposed to be doing and started slowly burning his book instead.

Peter looked up at the clock and sighed. There were still two hours and 12 minutes to go before lunchtime. And there had been no eggs or bacon at breakfast - just grey porridge and endless boxes of cereal. The new headmistress had said something about keeping them healthy.

Like _porridge_ had ever made anyone feel better.

It was her worst decision yet, in Peter's opinion. He hoped one of his friends would figure out what they could do about it soon. Or maybe Evans - she'd got the menu changed a couple of years before. Then again, she'd asked them to serve _less_ meat, so maybe she was happy about the porridge.

Girls were so weird.

He looked at the clock again. Two hours and ten minutes to go.

“Sluggers?” Sirius had got bored of book burning and put up his hand.

At the front of the classroom, behind his big wooden desk, Professor Slughorn looked up.

“Yes, Black?”

“Are you on board with all this?”

“Chemistry lessons? In general, yes. You setting your book on fire? You’re welcome to keep trying, but I’m not sure you’ll discover anything particularly enlightening. Paper is carbon. It burns. We covered this when you were 11.”

“Not that. With Umbridge?”

A murmur of excitement went through the class. Like Peter, they'd clearly all been waiting for someone to ask. He sat up a little straighter to watch how Slughorn would react.

“ _Professor_ Umbridge,” he corrected, which was strange, because usually the teachers didn't care about things like that. (Slughorn had once told them he didn't mind what they called him, as long as it wasn't Horace. And not out of any compunctions about using his first name; because it “makes me sound like a greengrocer”.)

“Right, her. You don't really think all her rules are going to work, do you? You and the other teachers? You know they're mad, right?”

“Mr Black, this isn't, ah, quite the time for this discussion.”

“But the curfew, for example. No one thinks that just because we're locked in our dorms every night, we'll start studying out of sheer boredom? I mean, she does know that poker exists? And beer? And sex?”

Slughorn looked pained. Peter felt a bit sorry for him - he didn't want to be thinking about Sirius having sex either. (Although... _was_ Sirius having sex? Peter didn't even know he had a girlfriend.)

“You don't need reminding, or course, that gambling, alcohol and romantic liaisons have all been prohibited?”

“Aw, she doesn't want us playing poker, either? She never said. What _are_ we supposed to do for fun?”

“Your homework, I believe.”

“Nah, that can't be it. Look - what I'm asking is - you lot don't _agree_ with her?”

Slughorn looked shifty. “My opinion is... Not entirely relevant.”

“But Dumbledore always said we could ask the teachers anything we want.”

This was true; it had derailed many a lesson over the years. But Peter always felt like he learned more when they went off topic than when they followed whatever was in the textbook.

“Professor Dumbledore isn't here,” Slughorn said, unnecessarily.

“But you don't want us to become silent robot children? You used to love it when we got cheeky! Come on, sir, tell us the truth.”

“Mr Black, I appreciate your interest in my thoughts on the matter, but I’m afraid I can't answer.”

Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

Slughorn shifted guiltily. “The questioning of authority has been expressly forbidden by Professor Umbridge. And, ah - not just among the students.”

Sirius looked dumbstruck. “What?”

“The staff cannot... We're not supposed to... It's delicate, my boy, you understand?”

“And you're just going to lie down and take it?” He had been half joking before; but now Sirius's face had darkened, his voice was raised, his fists suddenly balled up tight by his sides.

“It's not a question of taking it…”

“’Course it is. You could just ignore her stupid rules, or tell her where to stick her boring job.”

“It's not always that easy...”

“It is!” Sirius shouted, standing up angrily and knocking his stool over. He whirled around to address the class. “Everyone - we don’t have to obey her just because she’s sitting in Dumbledore’s chair! That’s not the Hogwarts way!”

“Black! Sit down!”

“I won't bloody _sit down!_ How could you let her do this? Don't you care about Dumbledore at all?”

“That is enough!” Slughorn was standing now too, they were glaring at each other across the room. The rest of the class sat in breathless silence.

“What are you going to do? Send me to your new girlfriend Umbridge?”

“I will if I have to!”

“Then do it!” And Sirius was so furious that lifted up his hand and smacked the bunsen burner over. Peter yelped as his own textbook caught alight, and jumped back. Sirius - looking alarmed at how quickly it had all escalated - turned off the gas and ran to the sink at the end of their bench, pouring water into a beaker and throwing it over the fire.

The flames fizzled out, but it was too late - the fire alarms were already blaring and after a couple of seconds the sprinklers turned on.

“Out!” Slughorn shouted. “Everybody out! And Black - as soon as this over, we're going straight to Umbridge!”

Peter filed out with the rest of the class, now sopping wet, but he smiled at Sirius in what he hoped was a comforting fashion. It didn't matter - Sirius refused to catch his eye.

And there were _still_ two hours until lunch.

*

Lily and James were supposed to help direct the younger students to the proper safety points during fire alarms, but James seemed more interested in finding his friends.

By the time they were allowed back inside, Lily’s voice was hoarse from shouting at renegade first years and her fingers were numb from the cold air.

Second period had started, which they both had free. She found Potter at their agreed meeting point, near the phone in the entrance hall. She stomped over to him, shooing some dawdling third years to their next class as she went.

“Could you have been more unhelpful?” she demanded crossly. He grimaced and pushed a hand through his messy hair, until it stuck up almost vertically from his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “Someone said Sirius was the one who started the fire.”

“So? Doesn't that happen about once a month?”

“Yeah, but he's been in a real mood since yesterday. And I was worried what Umbridge would do to him.”

“And?”

“He's going to see her now.”

“So you could have been helping me shepherd first years anyway?”

He gave her a guilty, lopsided smile. “Sorry.”

She pursed her lips, but she supposed that was as good as she'd get. “Fine. So how do we get in touch with _The Times_?”

“Oh, I've already got the bloke's number.” He held up a startingly grown-up little black address book.

She frowned. “Why do you have the phone number of the _Times'_ education editor in there?”

“My dad knows him,” he said, shrugging, like this was completely normal.

Lily sighed. Honestly - the amount of people at this school whose parents knew editors at major newspapers, or members of parliament on powerful committees, or lawyers (she thought bitterly of the Blacks) who could make difficult problems go away. You'd think that Britain only had about 56 families, not a population of 56 million.

She inwardly fumed at all the posh twits who used their connections to get opportunities they didn't deserve. But then she chastised herself - because by making this call with Potter, wasn't she doing the same thing?

He punched the number into the phone and she shuffled closer so she could hear the other side, until their cheeks were almost touching.

She expected him to make a lewd comment, but he didn't. Then, as it started ringing, he turned to her suddenly. She had never seen his face so close up before. His glasses were all smudged, and she had a funny urge to take them from his head and clean them herself.

“We should tell him we're a couple,” he said.

“What? No!” She stepped away from him, alarmed.

“Seriously. It will be a better story.”

“It will not!”

“It makes it more personal. Come on, trust me on this - please?”

The phone stopped ringing on the other side, and she heard a man's gruff voice. “Hello - Edgar Bones, education editor speaking.”

Potter didn't say anything - he was just looking at her, his eyes wide, waiting for permission.

How long had he been planning this? Was this whole scheme just a ploy to get her to go out with him? The feeling she'd had since last night, that maybe they could finally put their differences aside and he would move past his fixation on dating her - had it all been a lie?

But no, that would be crazy. He wouldn't orchestrate something so elaborate just to get her to agree to be his pretend girlfriend. He couldn't have known the Blacks were going to force out their headmaster.

Then again, he was best friends with the Black heir.

“Hello?” the journalist asked a second time. Potter's eyes got wider.

Surely he wouldn't really let him just hang up if she didn't say yes? This was too important for games!

“Look, I'm a busy man, so -”

She nodded.

“Hello!” Potter said, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Sorry, the phone had gone dead. My name is James Potter, I'm head boy at Hogwarts School. You know my dad, Fleamont.”

Lily was surprised, although she supposed she shouldn't be, at how quickly he switched from doleful teenage boy to smooth-talking man on a mission.

“James! You're the rugby star, right?”

“I play a little,” he said modestly. Lily rolled her eyes.

“That's not what I hear. What can I do for you, lad?”

“Well my girlfriend and I - that's Lily Evans, the head girl, she's standing next to me - we couldn't help noticing the article you wrote about our headmaster's departure. And we wondered if you'd be interested in hearing about the changes his replacement is making. They're quite extreme.”

“Girlfriend, eh? Go on…”

Potter began explaining everything that had happened, answering questions carefully but occasionally throwing in some colourful turns of phrase to keep things interesting. Then he passed the phone to Lily and she confirmed the story and gave her own take.

“And how do you feel about your relationship with James?” Mr Bones asked towards the end of their conversation, his voice heavy with meaning.

“Oh,” said Lily, scrambling to think of something to say. She was a terrible liar - damn Potter for putting her on the spot like this! “Um, good. I mean, we get on... well. He's, you know, quite good looking…”

“I mean, have the new rules put it in jeopardy?” he asked, as James snickered and pretended to blush.

“Right!” She kicked at him, but he dodged her foot expertly. “Yes. Jeopardy. I, uh... It's very upsetting. I…” She wracked her mind for something that would sell the story. Why couldn't he have asked James about the emotional bit? (She knew why.)

She remembered Alice, sitting on her bed, waiting for Lily to fix things. Alice, with a future in medicine and a boy she wanted to marry, who had suddenly been told she couldn't have both.

“I love him very much,” she said, thinking of the way Frank had put his arms around his girlfriend while she cried. “But I have my future to think about. I want to be a doctor. So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to choose?”

“Indeed. Well, I think that's all I'll need for now. Thank you both very much for calling me. I'll be giving your new headmistress's office a ring to find out more this afternoon. Tell your young man to give my love to Fleamont. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Lily said, and the phone went dead. She looked at James. He raised his eyebrows, and she shifted her feet, suddenly feeling awkward. She'd just told someone - a journalist! - that she loved him.

Then she remembered why, and smacked him on the shoulder. “Girlfriend? Really?”

“What? It worked! People love a good doomed romance. I'm telling you, this makes the story ten times better.”

“The story was good on its own! Well, not _good_ exactly - important. You know what I mean. And why did you wait to ask me until the last moment?”

“I didn't think of it until then! I swear!”

“You're so full of shit.” But she felt the fight go out of her, and slumped against the wall. “Now what are we going to do?”

He stretched his long gangly arms above his head and cricked his neck. “I don't know about you, but I'm getting peckish. And look - it's almost lunch!”

“What are we going to do about our relationship? The one that currently only exists in the pages of national newspapers?”

He grinned. “I'm game if you are.”

She smacked him again.

“Ow! You’re a violent woman, Evans, has anyone ever told you that?”

“I am not _game._ Is that all you think about?”

“Not like that. Although now that you mention it... All right, all right, I'm kidding, don't hit me again!”

She glared at him, hand raised in the air. He stepped away carefully.

“I mean I'm game for pretending we're together. Strictly to help the cause. Think about it - she says she doesn't want romance distracting from our studies, but we already get top marks, so she's got no logical reason to enforce the rules. We're model students. A shining example to the youth of today. Her argument doesn't stand. Plus if we're also in love... It gives people a bit of hope, doesn't it? It's a sign that she can't control us.”

He had thought this through in far too much detail. There was no way it was a spontaneous idea. “But it's not true. Everyone knows we drive each other mad.”

“You think so? I think it's just playful flirting.”

“I've turned you down dozens of times. In public.”

“You were playing hard to get.”

“But why would we get together now? Just when relationships have been banned?”

Potter smirked. “Honestly, Evans, have you never read a romance novel? _Because it's been banned._ What could be sexier than that?”

She pulled a face. But she had to admit the plan made a bizarre kind of sense. She had thought something similar the previous night, after all. Their actions would mean more if they did them together.

But... she hadn't meant _that_ sort of together.

She took a deep breath, and then she nodded. “All right. But you can't tell anyone the truth.”

His face fell. “Not even -”

“No, not even your roommates. Not even Black. I'm not having you all laughing at me behind my back. And the fewer people who know the truth, the better; you know how quickly rumours spread here.”

“They would never -”

“Promise,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Or the whole thing is off.”

He bit his lip, looking at her hand for a long time while he considered. Then he shook it. “All right, you're on. No one else knows. But you have to sell it - you can't keep being mean to me in front of the whole school.”

“Fine,” she said, still pumping his hand, neither willing to back down first. “But you can't kiss me in front of people either.”

“Can I kiss you when we're alone?”

“No.”

“What about... In front of people, but not on the lips?”

Her hand was starting to hurt. But she wasn't going to be the first to let go. “Fine. But not excessively.”

“Grand!” He released her hand, beaming. The lunch bell rang with perfect timing. “Well, no time like the present!”

She nodded grimly, and fell into step beside him as they walked to the great hall.

“Potter?”

“I think you should call me James now. It's more convincing.”

“If you insist. James?”

“Yes, darling?”

Bloody hell. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“Why is your dad called Fleamont?”

*

Severus Snape could not believe his eyes.

For years Lily had been complaining to him about James Potter. Bashing him was one of their shared passions in life: his arrogance, his childish pranks, his obliviousness to class and money, the obnoxious way he pestered Lily to go out with him and never listened to her response.

“The real problem,” she had once told him, “is that Potter has clearly never had to struggle for anything in his entire life. Black is moody and annoying, but at least I know why. It's like Potter can't even imagine a world where he isn't the golden boy. It literally doesn't occur to him that someone might not like him... Sometimes I think rejection is the kindest thing I can give him.”

And yet now she was sitting with him and his friends at the Gryffindor table, laughing at their jokes while Potter gazed at her with doe eyes.

At one point, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and instead of shoving him away, she actually smiled at him.

Something very strange was going on.

*

“Something is up with James. He’s acting very strange,” said Sirius, as he and Remus walked to Umbridge's office for detention that night.

“Mmm,” Remus agreed. “It was odd that he didn't come running to tell us the minute it happened. He was acting far too cool.”

“Exactly! James is never cool. I'm the cool one.”

Remus thought about mentioning the fact that Sirius had almost set fire to the chemistry lab earlier that day because of his complete inability to stay cool. But he didn't.

“I wonder why now?” he asked instead.

Sirius looked at him like he had said something incredibly stupid. “You know why.”

“Evidently I don’t.”

“Because…” Was he blushing? Surely not. “It's forbidden.”

Remus burst out laughing. “Forbidden?”

“Like, what if I told you right now that you weren't allowed to eat ice cream. What would you immediately want to do more than anything else in the world?”

“I don't really like ice cream.”

“Chocolate then.”

“You'd never do that to me.”

“Right. But if I did.”

“I'd say you'd gone off your rocker. I'd want to get you some form of psychiatric help.”

“You'd want to eat chocolate! It would become ten thousand times more tempting! It would be all you could think about!”

“Oh.” Remus started to feel uncomfortably warm, despite the icy corridors. “I see. And so because Umbridge said we weren't allowed to…”

“Shag, yes,” Sirius said, casually flicking a bit of dust of his sleeve - which must have been an act, because normally he did not care a jot what dust or mud or food had decided to cling to his uniform throughout the day.

“That made them want to…”

“Start shagging like rabbits. Clearly.”

Remus swallowed. Was he supposed to be thinking about shagging? He'd mostly been worried about getting expelled and the fact that his friends were acting so bizarrely.

Was _Sirius_ thinking about shagging? He hadn't mentioned anything. But he wouldn't, would he? Not to Remus at least. For all his swagger and charm and flirtatious eyelashes, Sirius had only got with a couple of girls, usually only as a result of a drunken common room party - and never the same girl twice. He certainly never talked about them much afterwards, not the way James was always banging on about Evans.

But maybe all this time he had been having lots of amazing sex with girls without telling them about it?

Or maybe just since he was told he could do that and break a rule at the same time?

Blimey - was _everyone_ having secret rebellious sex while he and Peter sat around reading books and playing solitaire?

“It still doesn't explain why he wouldn't tell us about it,” he said, dragging his mind back to James and Evans in an attempt to move the conversation along.

Sirius, who had also gone uncomfortably quiet, seemed grateful for the change of subject. “No. It doesn't. I suppose we haven't given him much chance, what with getting detention and almost burning down buildings.”

“The second part was just you.”

“If you say so. Oh, Christ. There's no chance we can get out of this, is there?”

They had arrived at Umbridge's door.

“I don't think so,” Remus said sadly. “It will probably just be worse next time.”

“What do you think she’s going to make us do?”

“Write lines, hopefully. Or an essay about the dangers of smoking outdoors at nighttime.”

“Maybe she’ll lock us in a room for a few hours and I can have a nice nap.”

“Come on, then,” Remus sighed, and he knocked on the door.

“Enter!” came Umbridge’s shrill voice.

Remus pushed the door open and went inside, Sirius following him reluctantly.

Dumbledore’s office had been transformed. Remus had only been there a few times - after getting caught up in some particularly reckless pranks with James and Sirius, or (when he was eleven) to talk about any “accommodations” the school could make for his circumstances.

As a little boy, just a few months out of hospital, he hadn’t been able to believe that this was a building where people lived and worked, rather a museum or a National Trust property. It certainly didn’t seem like a school. Remus’s, admittedly limited, knowledge of schools had involved lots of grey and concrete on the outside, with bright plastic primary colours indoors.

There had been two kinds of teachers: excitable young women who smiled too much, and harried old women who snapped at you for the strangest things.

Those schools had been nothing like Hogwarts; those teachers nothing like Professor Dumbledore. Everything in his office was made from dark, shiny wood. The walls were lined with endless rows of books on every topic imaginable. He had a talking red parrot named Fawkes, who had hopped over to sit on Remus’s shoulder and then squawked in his ear.

Now Fawkes had gone, and so had Dumbledore, and in their place were cats. There were painted china plates with adorable kittens on the walls, framed pictures of cats on the mahogany desk, and pink cushions embroidered with cats on the two empty chairs. The deep red curtains had been replaced with pastel pink drapes, and the whole room was infused with an overpowering floral scent.

Professor Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, smiling at them.

“Uh.” Sirius sounded as flabbergasted as Remus felt. “We’re here for detention.”

“Yes, do sit down and join the others,” she told them.

Three more students had been caught out over the course of the day, and were now shifting awkwardly in their seats. Remus recognised a bulky fifth year Slytherin on the rugby team, a surprisingly young first year from Gryffindor - and Marlene McKinnon, one of Evans’s roommates. Although she had always been outspoken, she had returned from the summer holidays full punk: her once-brown hair had been bleached blonde, and she did something to make it look huge - it stuck up all directions. She had a lip ring and wore dark lipsticks and a lot of black stuff around her eyes. Although they all had to wear uniform, she accessorised hers with combat boots and layers of silver jewellery, primarily made from safety pins.

McKinnon, Remus thought bizarrely, would be a perfect match for Sirius, if Sirius didn’t seem so terrified of her.

She didn’t look quite herself in Umbridge’s office though. It looked like her make-up had been scrubbed off, and her lip ring was missing. Her hair was still wild - but the effect wasn’t the same without everything else. She looked like a cartoon character who had stuck her finger in a plug and been electrocuted, or a baby bird that had just hatched out of its egg. Not a fierce teenager at the forefront of the new cultural rebellion.

“All right, McKinnon?” Sirius greeted her warily. “What did you do?”

“I expressed myself,” she responded darkly, glaring at Umbridge.

“She broke the new uniform code,” said Umbridge.

“I didn’t know we had a new uniform code,” said Remus carefully as he took his seat. They all wore the same thing: white shirts, grey jumpers, ties, black trousers (skirts for the girls if they wanted), and blazers with house colours in the piping. But no one cared how they were styled, or what else they did with their appearance.

“Of course we do. This school is far too slovenly. There will be no make-up, no hair-dye, and no excessive jewellery.”

“Why does it sound like your rules only apply to the female students?” demanded McKinnon.

Umbridge tittered. “Now, Miss McKinnon, we’ve spoken about this. If you question me or my rules again you will join Mr Black for an entire week of detentions starting Monday.”

McKinnon folded her arms and glared. Sirius leaned back in his chair and winked at her lavisciously. She gave him the finger.

“Now,” said Umbridge, ignoring this. “For your punishment. You will each be writing lines. Misters Black and Lupin, I would like you to write ‘I must not break curfew.’ Mr Carrow, you will write ‘I must not threaten violence towards others.’ And Mr Creevey -” the first year actually shrank away from her in his seat - “you will write ‘I must not interrupt my teachers.’ Is that clear?”

“What about me?” asked McKinnon.

“Ah, you and I have our own plans for the evening. Come along then - follow me.”

She stood, and the students looked at each other.

“We're not staying here?” asked Remus.

“No, Mr Lupin. I have set up an extra special area for detentions. It's not far.”

They stood and began to file out after her - all except Sirius, who had used Umbridge's momentary absence to pick up one of the framed cat photographs from her desk and stare at it with revulsion.

“Come on,” Remus hissed, grabbing his elbow.

“All right, all right, keep your pants on. I just never knew I could miss a parrot so much.”

They joined the others, and Umbridge led them along the long dark corridor and down the grand staircase. They arrived in the entrance hall - and then Umbridge took a sharp left towards a door Remus had never noticed before. Unlike most of the doors in the entrance hall, which were twice as tall as they needed to be, and carved with gargoyles and figures from Greek mythology, and suchlike, this one was plain and unadorned. It was just a door - and as such it blended into the walls like it was invisible.

“I was exploring the building,” Umbridge trilled over her shoulder, “and I found the most perfect place!”

They all passed through in single file and were led down a dark concrete staircase, lit by a few sparse flickering lamps. The edges of the ceiling were covered in spiderwebs, and Remus could already feel the dust getting caught in his throat.

When they reached the bottom, they were in a basement.

It was a vast, cold, grey room that was clearly used as a dumping ground for any broken furniture or out-of-date textbooks that the staff couldn't be bothered to throw away. As Remus's eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed that one corner was full of old sets from school plays; he recognised some green hills and Nazi memorabilia from a production of The Sound Of Music from their third year. (Sirius had temporarily played one of the Von Trapp children, until being thrown out for an unfortunate incident with the goat puppets.)

Someone - probably Filch - had pushed a lot of the junk to the edges of the large room, creating a kind of clearing in the middle. There were two rows of four desks and chairs, like a miniature classroom. On each desk there was a stack of plain sheets of paper and a pen.

There was a stunned silence. “You're locking us in a dungeon?” asked Sirius eventually, and his voice bounced around the walls.

“There's no need for dramatics Mr Black,” Umbridge said. “No one is locking you anywhere. And this is hardly a dungeon.”

“It's a basement,” Sirius said, incredulous. “It's freezing down here. Remus is - ow!”

Remus had stamped on his foot, hard. He had long ago decided to never use his illness as an excuse for anything. He certainly wasn't going to let Umbridge see him be weak now - not when she was clearly testing them, and he hadn't been properly sick in years.

Sirius scowled at him but shut his mouth.

“Well, if there are no more questions, I'll be back to collect you in two hours. Mr Filch will be supervising you until I return. I want to see that you have written a sufficient number of lines - or there will be serious consequences. Now. Miss McKinnon, let's leave the boys to it. You're with me this evening. We're going to sort out that hair of yours.”

McKinnon's hand flew to her head. “Actually, I think I'd rather stay with the group,” she said. “I didn't know about the new dress code, but I won't backcomb it tomorrow.”

“Didn’t you hear me? The dress code specifies no hair dye,” Umbridge said.

“Yeah but... it's a bit late for that. It's bleached. It's sort of permanent.”

“Don't be silly. You don't really want to be stuck down here with a bunch of boys? Not when us girls are going to have so much fun?”

McKinnon looked like she would much, much rather stay with a bunch of boys in the dungeon (which was how Remus was now referring to it in his head) than be alone with Umbridge. But she had run out of options. She turned and followed her back up the stairs as Filch hobbled down, leering at them all with obvious distaste.

One of the lights on the walls flickered.

Remus shivered.

*

One hour later, Filch was snoring loudly in his chair, and Remus was being a bloody idiot.

“You're being a bloody idiot,” Sirius told him.

But then, Remus was always a bloody idiot, wasn’t he? At least about being sick. When he had first arrived at Hogwarts he had been skinny and scared; he barely spoke to his new roommates, just quietly sat on his bed reading his second-hand textbooks over and over again. If his ratty, oversized jumpers hadn’t marked him out as a scholarship student, there by merit and not money, Sirius would have assumed he was a bit slow.

At first James and Peter had been a little freaked out by the ghost-like figure haunting their dorm room. But Sirius liked him. He was calm. There were plenty of times when he wanted to tear around the grounds with James, running and climbing trees and shouting at the top of his lungs. But there were other times when he wanted to sit quietly with Remus. When it was just the two of them, Sirius started to tell him about his life and his family, how miserable he was at home and how delighted he was to be at boarding school. Remus watched him with big eyes and his long, nervous fingers picked at the sleeve of his jumper while he listened. Occasionally he would say things like “oh dear” and “how terrible”, like he was Oliver bloody Twist, and Sirius would feel a glow of warmth in his chest.

Then one day he was gone. All his clothes and books were still there - but the little boy had disappeared, and none of the teachers would tell Sirius why. He came back two months later, coughing but with a determined look in his eye, and the next time it was just the two of them, he put down his book and asked, “What did I miss?”

He was more talkative after that. He seemed to become more himself with each passing day. He started joining in when James and Peter were around as well (although he was never one for shouting or climbing trees). Sirius’s absolute favourite moments were when, after not saying anything for seemingly hours, Remus would chip in to their conversation with a cutting remark that would leave his chosen victim utterly speechless. But then, before you could feel too devastated, he would give you a secret little smile that let you know he didn’t really mean it. He was _funny_. He was smart. If anyone looked sideways at him, Sirius would beat them up without hesitating.

But he wasn’t very forthcoming with personal information. And so if Sirius hadn’t found the medication while rummaging through his friend’s sock drawer, he might never have told them about the leukemia.

“I said, you’re being a bloody idiot,” Sirius said again, scrunching up a bit of paper and throwing it at Remus’s head. It bounced off and dropped to the basement floor. “It’s freezing down here. I don’t have my jacket to give you. Just wake Filch up and tell him you shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ve no more reason to leave than the rest of you,” Remus said haughtily, not looking up from the lines he was dutifully copying out in his small, neat handwriting. “Being cold doesn’t make you ill. We’re not in a Jane Austen novel.”

“Well, it doesn’t make you _healthy,_ ” Sirius argued. He was all too aware that he sounded an awful lot like James’s mum.

“Neither does smoking, but you’re willing to share a fag with me.”

“So?”

“So you don’t get to claim the moral high ground. Now leave me alone and write your lines.”

Sirius sighed, and folded his arms, and chewed on his pen, and scuffed his feet on the floor. Then he leaned forwards and wrote _I must not be a martyr because I think it will make me seem manly_ ten times on a fresh piece of paper. Then he scraped back his chair with a sickening screech, walked over to stand in front of Remus’s desk, and slapped the lines down on it.

Remus looked at the paper and blinked, then looked up at Sirius and frowned. Then his mouth twitched in a smile. “You don’t think I’m manly?”

“It’s the noodly arms,” Sirius explained. “I don’t believe you could ever beat a bear in a fight.”

This was mostly a lie. Remus may not have been on the rugby team with the other three, but he was surprisingly strong. And although he could not beat a bear in a _fight_ , exactly, he could probably give it one of his long, piercing looks and send it running straight back to its cave.

Sirius, for all his undeniable charm when it came to human beings, would probably be gobbled up in seconds.

“Like you’d do any better,” Remus said, which was basically what Sirius had been thinking.

“It’s just,” Sirius hissed, crouching down in front of the desk and leaning forward so their eyes were level, “it’s not worth it. I know you don’t want people to know. But -”

“It's not just that,” Remus whispered. “I don't want to give her the satisfaction.”

“Of what? Not accidentally killing you?”

“She shouldn't see that she's getting to us. That's what she wants. It's how she’ll win. Isn't that why you keep trying to break the rules?”

Sirius sighed. That was true. But then, he felt protected by his parents’ power and the money they had poured into his tuition, even if he wished he could be free of it.

Plus, his immune system was solid as a rock.

“I'll be okay,” Remus said, so quietly that Sirius had to lean closer to hear him. “I'll tell you if I'm not, and then you can beat up whoever you want in revenge. Okay?”

Sirius looked at him. They were so close he could count the freckles on his nose and feel his breath on his own skin. Despite the freezing temperatures, he felt unexpectedly warm.

“Are you two going to kiss? Because I don’t need to see that.” It was Carrow. Sirius had completely forgotten that he and Remus weren’t the only ones down there. At the sound of his voice, Remus snapped his head back and Sirius jumped up so quickly that he banged his shin on the desk.

Filch snorted and shifted in his sleep.

“You wish,” Sirius sneered at Carrow, but it was hard to seem menacing when he was clutching his leg and hopping on one foot.

“Write your lines, Sirius,” Remus told him tiredly, the glimmer of understanding between them now nowhere to be seen. “Your _real_ lines. Filch will wake up soon. Or Umbridge will come back, and she doesn’t need an excuse to show you what she means by _consequences_.”

They heard a sniffling. Sirius turned and saw the little first year with his head in his hands.

“Bloody hell,” he said, walking over. “Are you crying? Uh - there, there.” He patted the boy gingerly on the back. “What are you down here for, anyway?”

“I - I just -”

“What?” Sirius peered at his lines. “You interrupted someone? What about?”

“I really needed to - you know…” Sirius looked at him blankly. “To use the lavatories,” he whispered, like it was a scandalous secret.

“Oh,” said Sirius. “That’s not that bad. You can just get up and go, hasn’t anyone told you?”

“Not anymore. Professor Yaxley wouldn’t let me,” Creevey said, looking at Sirius with wide, innocent eyes that eyes that eerily reminded him of a young Remus.

“So? Then what?”

“So I asked again. A couple more times. He said I was interrupting the class.”

“And then he gave you detention?”

“And then…” He looked down, face flushed bright red.

“Oh,” Sirius said again. _“Oh._ You… they gave you detention for wetting yourself?”

The boy covered his face in his hands and let out a sob. “I didn’t mean to! I _told_ him I had to go!”

“Er - right, yeah. It’s not your fault. A man has needs, and one of those needs is a slash every now and then. Can’t be helped.”

He kept patting Creevey on the back, turning to look at Remus for help. But Remus appeared just as confused and horrified as he was. They were really banning kids from the bathroom and then punishing them for accidents now? That was Umbridge’s grand plan to “turn the school around”? Humiliating nervous eleven-year-olds?

The door banged open above them, and Filch woke with a start. “Wha - sit down, Black, you nasty bugger!”

But before Sirius could get back in his seat, Umbridge had appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Causing trouble, Black?” she asked as she descended into the dusty basement. “And how many pages have you written? Oh, dear…” She leaned over his desk, picking up his stack of paper and shaking her head. “No, that’s not nearly enough. Well, never mind - lucky for me you’ll be back all next week to finish them off. I want double the amount. And as you’ve clearly been distracting your friends, they can return with you.”

“What?” Carrow demanded.

“No!” Sirius said. “I wasn’t distracting them - I’ve only been up a minute. I just needed to stretch my legs. Get the old blood circulating again.” He attempted a lunge. “No funny business, see - just, uh, simple biology.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus cover his face with his hands.

“I’m afraid I just don’t believe you,” she said, still shaking her head like it came at great cost to admit it. She scrunched up his pages of writing, walked over to a large black bin by the door, and dropped them inside. “I’ll see you all back here at 6pm sharp on Monday to try again. And next time you will _all_ finish your task, not just some of you, or I will be forced to use the cane.” She giggled, as if she was titillated by the idea. “And I’m sure none of you wants that, do you? Now - run along!”

She gave them another simpering smile, but up close, Sirius saw that her eyes were cold as steel.

If it hadn’t been for his parents, he might have hated her more than any other person on Earth.


	4. Saturday, 29th October, 1977

Lily woke up at 7am, desperate to go down to the common room and check that day's edition of the newspaper. Had Edgar Bones written their story already?

It was a bright, crisp winter morning, the blue light of dawn streaming through the windows. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood softly, trying not to wake her roommates. 

“You're up early.”

Lily yelped in surprise, then covered her mouth with her hand. Marlene McKinnon was crouching over a suitcase beside her bed in the corner by the door. 

She looked transformed.  The thick eyeliner and dark purple lipstick were back, sure. And her weekend clothes were her typical all-black punk look, all leather and combat boots.

But every white blonde hair on her head had disappeared. She was completely bald.

“What happened?” Lily gasped.

“Guess,” said Marlene.

“You... Is it... Some kind of protest?"”

Marlene smiled - a bitter, angry smile that was approximately 50,000 miles away from the happy girl Lily had once known. “Actually, you're not far off. Umbridge said I was breaking the new dress code or something, with my hair. I told her it was too late - and then she whipped out a bottle of Clairol.”

“No.”

“Yep. In dark caramel brown. I told her I'd rather shave the whole lot off.”

“Jesus Christ. And she let you?”

“She did it herself, the crazy bitch. She kept saying ‘you chose this, McKinnon. You asked for it.’ Watch your back, Lils, she might be properly mental.”

Now that Lily was used to it, she thought Marlene looked oddly cool. Paired with the dramatic make-up, there was something terrifying and powerful about her. But she detected a hint of fear beneath the bravado.

“It suits you,” Lily told her firmly. “But I'm sorry it happened like that.”

“Thanks, Lil.”

Marlene stood and surveyed the room. For the first time, Lily stopped looking at her head and focused on what she had been doing with her suitcase on the floor. It was full and open. The acid yellow Sex Pistols album, not yet a week old, was balanced lovingly on top. Lily looked around and realised that all of Marlene's things, previously scattered around the room, were missing.

“Are you... leaving?” she asked unsurely.

“‘Course,” said Marlene, looking surprised.

“She expelled you? It's only been two days!”

“I'm not waiting to be expelled. I'm just getting the fuck out. The good thing about Hogwarts was that no one had to do anything they didn't want to. I'm not going from that to Führer Dolores.”

“But... you won't get any qualifications.”

Marlene snorted. “When was the last time you saw me in a book class? I learned everything I need in the workshop.”

It was true that no one could make stuff like she could; most of the jewellery she wore she had made herself. Lily had no doubt she could put the skills to good use if she wanted.

“But your parents have already paid your fees.”

This time she shrugged. “I'll pay them back one day if they want. But they weren't paying all that money for me to go to fascist school.”

And this was what Lily would never understand about rich people - how money would never be a big deal to them, how they could shrug off hundreds of pounds that someone else had invested like it was nothing. Why had Marlene's parents even paid for her to keep going to boarding school after 16 if she wasn't taking the exams? What was the point - other than that she hadn't thought of anything better to do yet, and they had the money to spare? Lily's parents weren't even paying for Hogwarts, but if she told them she had decided not to bother with qualifications, they would have strung her up by the ankles.

She didn't say any of that. Because if there was one thing Hogwarts believed in - the real Hogwarts, not this alien version they suddenly inhabited - it was that they were master of their own destinies. “We're going to fight it,” she said instead. “Me and James. If you stick around, things might go back to normal.”

But Marlene shook her head. “Nah, that's more your thing than mine. ‘Don't be told what you want. Don't be told what you need’.”

It was a line from a Sex Pistols song. Students had been playing the single on repeat in the common room for months, ever since it had been released that spring during the Queen’s silver jubilee and caused a national outcry. Marlene had said it was going to change everything, and then returned from a summer of sweaty gigs utterly transformed.

Lily thought the band sounded awful, but she couldn’t help but agree anyway. It was  _ exciting  _ to listen to a working class kid from North London calling the Queen a fascist, and having the establishment accuse him of tearing apart the entire country. When had they ever before admitted that someone like that had so much power? It made her feel like anything was possible, like ‘normal’ wasn't the only option any more. Finally, the anger she felt at the unfairness of the world was shared by other people as well. And if that was true, maybe one day people might actually listen to her too.

“I'll miss you,” Lily said, meaning it.

“You too,” said Marlene. Then she grinned, and the flash of her smile made her look quite beautiful. “Never mind the bollocks, eh?”

And she gave a mock salute, picked up her case, and walked out of the room like it was nothing.

Lily was stunned. She sank back down onto her bed and buried her head in her hands. Two days - two days! - and students were already hightailing it into the unknown.

This couldn't go on. Surely no one thought it could work? You can't force students who were used to making their own rules to suddenly submit to one of the strictest regimes she'd ever heard? It was 1977 for Christ's sake.

She stood, quickly pulling a jumper over her pyjamas and darting out of the room and downstairs to the common room. The newspapers had arrived and were spread across a low table in the corner. 

She found  The Times and settled into one of the plump armchairs, opening it up and scanning the pages for signs of their story (she skipped the hysteria about gangs of uncouth youths with safety pins through their cheeks).

She went back to the beginning and started again. 

She had combed through the paper five times before she finally gave up with a disgruntled sigh. 

There was nothing. 

*

James was furious. He was cold, it was raining, and he had the kind of pent up energy that could only be unleashed by repeatedly tackling his teammates to the ground in rugby practice. He could tell Sirius was the same - he was practically vibrating with rage.

“What do you mean it’s cancelled?” he demanded. 

Their coach, Mrs Hooch, grimaced. “I’m sorry, James. I just heard from Professor Umbridge. Rugby counts as a club, and all clubs have been suspended.”

“We’ve got a match next week!” Sirius protested, stepping forward and clenching his fists.

Hooch regarded him carefully. “I know. I’m as angry as you are.”

“I bloody doubt it.”

“Can we practise anyway?” asked James, before Sirius could get into yet another fight with a teacher.

“I can’t stop you from exercising individually,” she hedged. “But not in your team kits, not as a group, and not under my direction.”

“What if we all exercised individually in the same vicinity?”

“Curfew is at 8pm. As long as you stay on school grounds and don’t hurt each other, you can do what you like with your time before then.”

James nodded. “Thanks, coach. Come on, lads - let’s go and get changed and come back out.”

“It’s raining,” complained Carrow, a prop from Slytherin who Sirius said he’d had detention with the night before.

“And? We’ve got a match next week. As your captain -”

“You’re not my captain,” Carrow grunted. “You heard her - the team is cancelled.”

“Not for long,” James said through gritted teeth. “We’ll get it back on again before the match, right, coach?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “But Carrow’s right - you’re not captain of anything until this is sorted.”

He frowned. He’d been looking forward to practice for days, ever since Umbridge had arrived and started bossing them around. He was still head boy, sure, but rugby captain was the role he cherished. He was good at it. As the team’s fly-half he was used to directing the action on the pitch, making sure everyone was in position, backing each other up. But he loved the authority it gave him off the pitch too, the way he could use it to get the younger kids to listen to him.

“Come on,” Sirius said, slapping him on the shoulder roughly. “The rest of us will train with you, won’t we, fellas?”

They nodded, even if some of them - including Peter - were looking wistfully towards the warm, dry castle.

“All right,” James said, and then he took off towards the changing rooms. “Last one there is a rotten egg!” he yelled over his shoulder, and they all scrambled after him, leaving Carrow standing in the mud, arms folded, glaring furiously.

*

“We should have a party,” shouted Sirius in the shower, the scalding hot water a relief after two hours of running and sliding through the cold mud.

“You what?” called James over the roar of the shower next to him.

“Party. Common room. Tonight.”

“What about Umbridge?”

“What about her? We’ll be indoors by eight. No rules broken. She can't expel us all.”

He looked over at his friend. James had bulked out in the last few years of taking rugby seriously, developed muscles and a strength he had never had as a skinny kid. He was squinting in his direction, but Sirius knew he couldn’t see a bloody thing without his glasses.

“Are you worrying about what Evans will say? You’ve got to get a grip, mate.”

James shook his head and looked away, reaching for a bottle of bright green shampoo and dumping half of it onto his head. Blind as a bloody bat. “No. I’m in. Let’s do it.”

Sirius whooped and jumped up, pulling him down by the shoulders and scrubbing his hand into his hair. James laughed, and pushed him off. “Get off, you big poof!”

Sirius grinned. “You love it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When they were dry, and dressed, they trooped to the Great Hall to meet Remus for lunch. Annoyingly, he was sitting opposite Evans. James rushed over to them, throwing his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She swatted him away, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and irritation.

Sirius caught Remus’s eye, and shrugged.  _ Weird.  _ He sat down and started piling bangers and mash onto his plate.

“You up for a party in the common room tonight, Evans?” he asked, lightly.

He waited for the lecture:  _ oh, Black, the rules! We couldn’t possibly break them! Think of the kiddies! _

Instead, she looked back at him coolly and placed a hand on James’s shoulder, like she was marking out her territory. (James, oblivious, was already shovelling potatoes into his mouth.) “Absolutely,” she said. “We could all do with blowing off some steam. And if we stay inside we won’t even be doing anything wrong - she’ll have nothing on us.” 

“Unless she finds the booze,” Sirius pointed out. And now it would surely come:  _ golly, Black, alcohol consumption? On a Saturday? Heavens to Betsy! _

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said, turning away from him and reaching for the salt.

Sirius frowned. “Well, great. See you there. Remus and I will pick up supplies this afternoon, won’t we?”

Remus looked startled to suddenly be included, but he nodded. “Okay.”

“You don’t want a hand?” asked James, looking a little put out.

“Nah. You and Comrade Evans can spread the word, seeing as you’re so revered around these parts. Wouldn’t want the golden couple getting in trouble. And anyway, I can stop in on Meredith on the way back.”

James shrugged, and started filling Remus and Evans in on rugby practice and the news from Hooch. 

“Are you all right?” asked Remus later, as they were walking through Hogsmeade, the village down the road from Hogwarts. 

Technically, in one of her many new rules announced seemingly randomly at mealtimes, Umbridge had banned unauthorised student trips off campus.

Sirius, of course, had ignored her. And Remus had happily followed him as they snuck around the edge of the grounds and through a hole that they made in the wall in their second year, when they were too young to go to Hogsmeade without supervision. It was small - they had to kick at a few extra bricks just to make room - but they had fit all the same.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Why?”

“You seemed a bit put out at lunchtime. Are you jealous of Evans?”

“Jealous! Are you calling me a queer?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but his cheeks went a little pink. “No, Sirius. I mean because she’s taking up more of his attention now.”

“Oh.” Sirius felt slightly foolish. “I dunno. James has always been a plonker about Evans. The only difference is that now she doesn’t seem to mind. I just don’t understand how it all happened so quickly.”

“Right.”

They kept walking towards the Hog’s Head, whose landlord was known to sell the odd couple of cases of beer and wine to the students without asking too many questions.

“Anyway,” said Sirius breezily, bumping his shoulder with Remus’s. “Why would I be jealous of James when I’ve got you?”

“Piss off,” said Remus, rolling his eyes again and shoving his hands deep into his ratty old coat pockets.

“I mean it,” said Sirius. “You’re a dream to have around. A delight. How could I look at another when my Remy-poo is by my side, smelling of dusty old books, golden brown hair flapping in the wind, that noble frame cutting such a fine figure in the late October sun?”

Remus’s raised an eyebrow, sliding his eyes over towards Sirius even as he kept his head down against the cold. “Are you done?”

“Hardly. You’re a catch, sweets. Don’t you want to live up to your potential? Doesn’t all this talk of Not Shagging make you want to find an innocent, nubile flower at tonight’s shindig and give her the full Lupin experience?”

Remus looked horrified. “Please don’t use the word ‘nubile’ ever again.”

“So that’s a no to finally unleashing your inner beast upon the world?”

“My what?”

“You know, your mojo, your sexual prowess, the untamed wolf inside that is yearning to be free?”

“Stop talking immediately.”

“All right, all right. But you’re depriving the world of something carnally beautiful. I can tell.”

“Actually, I think our esteemed headmistress is depriving the world of that, ah, particular treat.”

“Nah, you’ve always been a prude. It’s okay.” Sirius patted him on the arm. “It’s why we love you so. A man still has to try. I’ll get there eventually.”

Remus frowned. “Hang on. What are you talking about now?”

“Oh look, we’re here!” Sirius said brightly, pushing on the old door of the ramshackle pub and stepping inside. “Aberforth? Your favourite miscreants have arrived!”

The pub’s landlord was standing behind the dirty bar, cleaning it with an even dirtier rag.

“‘Choo want?” he grunted.

“A case of your finest scotch whisky please, my old friend.”

Aberforth kept wiping, looking at Sirius with a bored expression.

“All right. Beer?”

Aberforth grunted, tossed aside the rag, and disappeared through a door down into the basement.

“Chatty bloke,” mused Sirius, and Remus smiled. 

Aberforth returned with a large crate full of beers, and Sirius managed to sweet-talk him into selling them a single bottle of whisky on top.

“Cheers, mate,” he said, sliding the notes towards him on the bar. “You’re a top gent.”

Aberforth went back to “cleaning”, ignoring both them and the money now that the transaction was over. Sirius handed the whisky to Remus to store inside his giant coat pockets, and picked up the crate.

They left the pub, blinking in the sunlight - and bumped straight into Professor McGonagall, their head of house and Remus’s English teacher.

“Black! Lupin!” She looked as surprised as they were. “What are you doing in there?”

“Uh,” said Sirius, the gears in his mind whirring quickly in search of a plausible excuse. He had nothing.

“I was interviewing Aberforth for a local history assignment,” said Remus. McGonagall and Sirius both stared at him.

“Really?” she asked.

Remus nodded, his face impassive. “Yep. Did you know there has been a pub on this spot for 500 years? Almost as long as Hogwarts.”

“I did indeed know that,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Do you think the students of the 1300s also snuck off to buy beer right under their teachers’ noses?”

Busted. The colour began to drain from Remus’s face. But Sirius noted a slight twinkle in her eye.

“We can only assume so,” he said, shifting the weight of the crate in his arms. “It’s in their nature. I’m sure the teachers let them off without a punishment though.”

“You’re sure, are you?”

“Oh yeah. It was all they had to drink in those days, wasn’t it? Couldn’t purify the water. Couldn’t pasteurise the milk. It was beer or certain death, I’ve heard. You wouldn’t want to punish anyone for looking after their health, would you, Minerva?”

For a moment he thought that using her first name would push things too far. He could tell Remus thought it had - he let out a long-suffering sigh like he was already counting the extra hours they would have to spend in the detention dungeon.

But then, by some miracle, the corner of McGonagall’s mouth twitched upwards, just a fraction. “I assume you boys have not forgotten the new curfew?”

Sirius stood a little straighter. “Of course not. We’ll be in the common room from 8pm sharp. And I can guarantee you that every other Gryffindor will be right there with us.”

“Well,” she said, brushing down her coat and straightening her hat. “As you are both 18, I see no rule-breaking here. Carry on.”

And with that she stepped around them and continued on her way down the street.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered, locking eyes with a bewildered Remus. “The old bat’s gone soft. I swear, this whole place has lost its mind.”

They walked a little further down the road, towards the old garage and repair shop. Sirius led them to the side door, handing the crate of beers over to Remus, who set it down on the floor.

The door was wrenched open by a terrifyingly large man. He was gigantic, almost twice Sirius's height and three times as broad. Every inch of his skin was covered in tattoos, with the exception of his face, which was mostly obscured by a grizzled beard and long dark hair. Strains of angry guitars and screaming vocals were coming from the shop floor, as a dog barked insistently.

He turned away from them. “Sherrup, Fang!” he boomed, and the dog whimpered, and was quiet.

“All right, Hagrid,” Sirius said cheerfully. “I’m here to see Meredith.”

Hagrid turned back towards them, and his dark black eyes twinkled.

*

Remus did not usually enjoy parties. Noisy, wild, unpredictable things - something always ended up getting broken, or else Sirius would have one too many and start hitting on any girl that moved. It was exhausting.

That night seemed different though. Sirius was right: the school, which had once been bonkers but peaceful, felt completely different. It was as if everybody was banding together and spoiling for a fight all at once. Evans had told them that Marlene McKinnon had already run away rather than live under Umbridge’s rules a moment longer.

There was a tension in the air that had never been there before; when there had been no real rules except “don’t hurt anybody”, acting out seemed sort of pointless, if not impossible. Their silly pranks had been accepted, even praised, for what they were: childish japes by a group of boys who wanted to show off how clever they were. Now, with more rules announced every day (today’s: no buying food from the Hogsmeade chippy, a decree that had made Peter’s eyes bug out from his head) all any of them could think about were ways to cause trouble.

Even Remus, known party hermit, was halfway through his second beer.

“I’m still suspicious,” Sirius said, leaning an arm on his shoulder and stumbling a little. That was another thing that made this party so unusual: for once, Sirius wasn’t flirting with anyone. In fact, he’d spent the whole evening so far at Remus’s side, like a devoted puppy.

“James and Evans?”

“Yeah. Whass ‘e not telling us?

“I dunno,” shrugged Remus, and Sirius nearly toppled over at the sudden movement. Remus grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “How much have you had to drink?”

Sirius smiled up at him fondly. “My hero!” he declared, resting his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus sighed, and put an arm around him to help keep him steady.

“Why do you care so much about Evans?”

“‘S just weird,” Sirius mumbled. “Why’d she change her mind so quick? And what if James isn’t fun anymore?”

“He’s still fun,” Remus reassured him. “He agreed to the party. Look - they’re right over there, drinking your illegal booze and everything.”

He pointed to the red sofa by the fireplace, where James was indeed sitting with his arm around Lily, whispering in her ear as she giggled. On the sofa opposite, Peter was talking to a girl in the year below. Sirius had been right about that too - everyone was pairing up now that they had been told not to.

Everyone except them, of course.

“Weird,” Sirius said. “I’m going to ask them whass up.”

“Wait - what? Sirius -”

But he was off, striding purposefully towards James and Evans. Remus hurried after him.

Sirius flopped down right between them, wriggling until they were forced to shift away from each other to make room.

“Hi guys!” he chirped, as James glared at him. “Wassup?”

“Is he drunk already?” James asked Remus, who shrugged.

“You know what he’s like.”

They shared a meaningful look. A total lightweight.

“Seriously,” Sirius said, and then chuckled to himself. “Thass my name. Never gets old. But seriously, what is up with you…” he pointed at James “and you?” He swivelled around to jab a finger at Evans, who looked slightly alarmed.

“Nothing’s up,” James said. “I asked her out and she finally said yes, that’s all. Now we're in love. It's normal.”

Evans pulled a face, but she didn't correct him.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Your best friends? Your comrades? Your brothers in - in wotsit - in arms?”

“That was me,” Evans said, patting Sirius comfortingly on the shoulder. He looked up at her and blinked. “I told him to keep it quiet at first. Because I was a bit embarrassed, and, um, worried about the new rules.”

“You do love rules, Evans,” Sirius agreed, nodding sagely. Then he shook his head. “Why’d you change your mind? Was it his manly new muscles?”

“No,” Evans said, blushing and smiling fondly at James. “I just… couldn’t remember why I kept saying no. And that’s… That’s not a good reason to keep doing something.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. Kiss.”

Evans frowned. “Sorry?”

“Prove it! Kiss!”

“We’re not going to kiss on demand, Sirius, stop pissing about,” James said.

“Chicken!” He shoved his hands in his armpits and started flapping them up and down and clucking.

“I’m not - this isn’t - you’re such a prat when you’re drunk! We’re not doing this!”

Sirius kept making the chicken noises.

“It’s all right,” Evans said. “We’ll do it.”

“What? Really?” James asked. “Lily, we don’t have to indulge him, he just turns into an idiot after a couple of beers…”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “It’s fine. If he doesn’t believe us, we’ll prove it to him. Kiss me, James.”

James looked astonished. Remus smiled. The poor sap still couldn’t believe his luck. He’d dreamed of kissing Lily Evans for so many years, it was like he was amazed he was finally allowed to do it, even though they were actually together.

He stood, reaching across Sirius and taking her hand softly. She rose from her seat, and Sirius cackled manically. Nutcase.

James put a hand on Evans’s waist and drew her towards him, so tenderly that Remus started to feel a bit embarrassed to be watching. Even Sirius went quiet.

James leaned forward, slowly and carefully, eyes searching hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, when they were just inches apart, which was taking chivalry a bit far in Remus’s opinion, considering she had suggested it in the first place.

Lily didn’t seem to mind. She smiled, reached up behind his neck, and pulled his lips down onto hers. James made a startled noise, and then wrapped his arm further around her so that she was even closer.

Sirius started clapping, and they drew apart, looking around and laughing.

“Believe us now?” asked Evans. “I need another drink.” 

She stalked off towards the impromptu bar at the other end of the common room.

James placed a hand on his heart and stepped back, like he was reeling from shock. He had a happy, dopey look on his face. “I’m in love,” he said, seemingly to the world, and then tripped after her.

Remus sat down next to Sirius, who immediately slumped against him.

“See?” Sirius said, like he had just proved a point and not the other way around.

“What?”

“‘M not jealous of them. Not when I’ve got you.”

Remus laughed, and put his arm back around Sirius to keep him from going horizontal. “Not this again.”

Sirius looked up at him, blinking his large grey eyes. His hair was falling across his forehead in waves, and Remus felt a tight squeezing in his chest. “Stop being so self-depreciating - self-decapitating - no, that’s not it - what is it?”

“Self-deprecating,” Remus said. “And I’m not.”

“You are!” Sirius accused, a furrowed little line appearing between his eyebrows. “You think you’re not good enough for anyone.”

“That’s… not the problem,” Remus said carefully. 

“But you are good enough!” Sirius insisted, waving his arm in the air and almost taking Remus’s eye out. He reached out to grab his wrist and keep it steady. Sirius looked back at him. “You’re good enough for me,” he said.

“What?”

“For me,” he said again. “You. Remus. Good enough.”

“I haven’t got a clue what you’re on about,” Remus told him, quite truthfully. But the feeling in his chest was getting tighter.

Sirius made a frustrated noise, and then launched himself upwards towards Remus, banging their mouths together. His lips were wet, and his breath was hot, and his stubble was scratchy against his jaw and  _ what in blazes was happening? _

Remus pulled away, still gripping Sirius’s wrist. “What was that?” he whispered.

But he knew what it was. What he meant was: did you really mean that?

But then the door to the common room slammed open, and they jumped apart and turned - along with everyone else - to see Umbridge standing there.

“What is going on?” she demanded.

For a moment, no one spoke - although The Runaways kept singing about playing with fire from the record player in the corner. Remus could hear the sound of his own heart beating along with them inside his ears.

“We’re celebrating!” said James, stepping out from the crowd holding up his beer and offering it towards her. “Wanna join us?”

“What precisely are you celebrating? And turn off that racket!”

James looked at her innocently, as someone sheepishly stopped the record player. James raised his bottle. “Why, the arrival of our new headmistress, of course. It’s about time we had a woman around here. Lily has been saying it for years; she’s big on women’s lib, you see. Say - I don’t suppose you want to talk to her about dismantling the patriarchy?”

Umbridge crossed her arms over her chest, and surveyed them all, that ever-present simpering smile still fixed on her face even now.

Remus sighed.

They were in so much trouble.

Again.


	5. Sunday, 30th October, 1977

“James! James!”

James's head was pounding. His mouth tasted like something had crawled inside it and died in the middle of the night. His bones ached. In his delirium, he thought he heard someone saying his name.

Probably the grim reaper, come to drag him by the hair off to the fiery pits of hell. It was for the best - he was no good to anyone any more. He hoped his friends would remember him fondly, weep at the funeral and perhaps create a little shrine to him in the corner of the dorm room. Maybe the school would put up a statue of him in the grounds somewhere, and generations of kiddies would swap stories about how the Greatest Fly-Half Hogwarts Had Ever Known had perished at the hands of the Worst Hangover Of All Time Thanks To His Stupid Bloody Idiot Friends.

“James!” It was the voice again. His head was still pounding. No, wait - the door was pounding too. Does the reaper have to knock to ask permission to enter a room, like a vampire? If that's so, why does anybody ever say yes? Why aren't they all immortal?

“James Potter would you please find out what your girlfriend wants so she stops banging that bloody door?” Sirius groaned from across the room.

Oh. Oh! It wasn’t the grim reaper, it was Lily! Lovely Lily! James could kiss her, except that it was probably not a very good idea given the presumed state of his breath. Still, he could if he wanted to. She'd let him last night. The memory came flooding back to him, almost sweet enough to banish his thumping headache away for good. She’d kissed him! In front of people!

He rolled over, thinking that it was the fastest way to get to her without actually getting up, which he suspected would be a mistake.

He forgot, however, that he was in bed, and that flinging himself to one side would result in him crashing to the floor.

“Oof!”

“James?” The knocking stopped. “Is everything all right in there?”

“Just coming, my sweet!” he called, although it sounded more like “Jusnaareggghhhff.”

He dragged himself up - as predicted it made his head spin and his stomach lurch unpleasantly - and moved towards the door. He ran a hand through his hair, decided there was simply too much damage done there to even bother, and opened the door, leaning against the doorframe in a manner that he hoped made him look casual and nonchalant, but was in fact designed to keep him upright.

“Lilypad,” he said. “What can I do you for?”

“You stink,” she told him, which was not quite the amorous greeting he had been hoping for. “Why are you so hungover? You only had a couple of beers.”

“Right,” he said, remembering now that this had been true when Umbridge found and broke up the party. “Sirius had bought a special supply of whisky for later. But then we were sent to our dorms and there were only four of us.”

“Sirius was hammered,” she said. “You let him drink whisky?”

“That's why I had to drink more. To keep it from him.”

It had all made so much sense at the time, but the look she gave him suggested that perhaps he wasn't quite as clever and noble as he had thought.

“Anyway,” she said. “I wanted to show you this - can we go somewhere?”

She held up a copy of The Sunday Times. On the front page was a grainy photo of Johnny Rotten spitting from a stage underneath the headline “Filth and Fury!”

“Could we, ah, save the politics for later?” he asked. “Only I'm feeling a bit delicate. In a manly way, of course.”

“I don't want to talk about politics, you dolt. It's our story - it's about us!” She had dropped her voice to a whisper, although James doubted his friends cared enough to be listening. And if it was in the paper, they could hardly keep what they'd done secret for long.

“Oh, right,” he said. “Yeah. Okay. Let's go downstairs.”

He turned to give one last, longing look at his disheveled bed, and then traipsed after her.

**Boarding school head bans student relationships**

_In a shock move, the interim-headmistress of one of Britain's most progressive boarding schools has banned students from having romantic relationships with each other._

_Hogwarts School, in Scotland, was until now known for its free-spirited attitude towards education and discipline. Under the leadership of its recently disgraced headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, lessons were optional, and the students were allowed to come and go largely as they pleased. Now, all that has changed._

_“School is no place for romance and free-thinking,” interim-head Dolores Umbridge told The Sunday Times exclusively. “If they want to to get up to those kinds of shenanigans they can do so after they have graduated. But it will not happen under my roof. Mr Dumbledore's reckless experiment with their education had gone on long enough.”_

_However, not everyone in the school is happy about the decision._

_“We loved that Hogwarts trusted us to make our own choices,” said 17-year-old James Potter, head boy and captain of the school rugby team, son of retired chemicals tycoon Fleamont Potter. “That's what made it special. It’s cruel to force couples to break up when they don’t want to, or keep people apart when they might like each other. That's all part of growing up.”_

_His girlfriend, head girl Lily Evans, 18, agreed. She now has a difficult decision to make. “I love him very much. But I have my future to think about. I want to be a doctor. So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to choose?”_

_For Professor Umbridge, the choice is clear. “Students go to school to learn, that is all. If I find out that any of them are distracted by romance, or having inappropriate relations, they will not be returning next year. And if they are in their final year, you can trust that their university recommendations reflect how I feel.”_

_It is thought to be the first rule of its kind in Britain. Since Mr Dumbledore's departure, all lessons have become mandatory, all school clubs have been suspended, and students can no longer leave the grounds without express permission._

_For 15-year-old student Regulus Black, second son of the Earl of Grimsby, the rules are a welcome change. “It’s about time we had some order around here. Dumbledore turned this place into a madhouse, letting in all sorts of good-for-nothings. I think Professor Umbridge is just the woman to restore the school to the glory it enjoyed in my parents’ day.”_

_Mr Dumbledore was unavailable for comment._

“That's not bad!” said James, looking up from the paper and smiling at Lily. “She sounds properly mad! Regulus sounds like a sexless dweeb! We sound quite mature and responsible!”

“He included the part where I said I loved you,” she pointed out.

He felt a bit giddy at the thought, even though he knew it had been an act. “That's good. It raises the stakes. People will be on our side.”

They were quiet for a moment, both staring into the roaring fire that they had huddled around for warmth. James's head was still pounding. He wished, honestly, that he was still in bed. But he couldn't bear to move away from Lily. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, or maybe rest his head carefully on her shoulder, or perhaps even kiss her again, if only he had thought to brush his teeth first. The memory of her warm lips on his was so pleasant, so thrilling and comforting all at once, that he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Then he realised they had been silent too long and he should probably be saying something. But what? His mind instantly emptied of all original or interesting thoughts. If his mind was a place, it would be a dusty desert in one of the old-timey Westerns his dad liked so much - just long stretches of sand and the occasional tumbleweed, or perhaps a bison nibbling on some dry grass.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he blurted out the other only thing he could think about: “I had a great time last night.”

At the same time she said, just as nervously, “I'm sorry about last night.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Sorry for what? It was fun, until Unfun-bridge ruined everything.”

“I'm sorry that I crossed a line between us just because Black was winding me up.” She folded her hands carefully in her lap, as if she knew he had been thinking about reaching out for one. He looked at her fingers sadly. All tangled up together with no room for outsiders. “It was unfair on you. It made things complicated. But I just want to make sure you know that the agreement remains as it was. That you're not... Confused.”

“Confused,” he repeated, still looking at her hands - because all at once, the idea of looking at her face felt too hard. “Nope. Not confused. Not me. James Lucid Potter, that's what they call me, always knows what's what. I tell you what, the only thing that I'm confused about is what to have for breakfast. And Chaucer, I never quite got the hang of all that ‘ _Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille_ ’ stuff if I'm honest.”

“Okay,” she said, and did he detect a hint of disappointment or was he delirious with last night's whisky?

“Okay,” he repeated, and his head hurt, and for the first time in his life he wished she'd get up and leave. “Toodle-oo then. See you at breakfast. If you don't mind, I might have to vomit into a toilet soon. Not because of the rejection, mind you, but because of the whisky.”

“Okay,” she said, and she unclasped her hands and stood, then left him alone to his misery, and he immediately wished she'd come back.

*

Remus Lupin had a cold. This was unfortunate, firstly and chiefly because he hated having a cold. It made his head feel fuzzy and there was snot everywhere, not to mention the indignity of incessant sneezing. Initially he thought he might be hungover like the others, but he had barely drank anything the night before - not half as much as James and Sirius, who were groaning and flopping about dramatically for most of the morning.

It was also unfortunate because, for Remus Lupin, a cold was never just a cold. It was a trip to the hospital wing, and days spent in bed for any sign of a relapse, and a horrible feeling that everybody had stopped seeing him as Remus Lupin and started seeing him, again, as a sick boy who might croak at any moment.

It was, to put it mildly, a load of bollocks.

Then again, Remus thought as he shuffled down the long corridor to the hospital wing, stopping to look out of windows and tidy messy corners in a desperate attempt to prolong the journey, maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time. He could use a day or two of peace and quiet. He had a lot to think about.

There was the situation at the school, for example, which had changed so dramatically in such a short space of time that his head was still reeling from all of the new information.

There was the fact that the entirety of Gryffindor House was now banned from gathering in the common room after curfew, and would instead be confined to their dormitories every night from 8pm, partly thanks to him - or at least thanks to the people he spent most of his time with. Umbridge had also confiscated the record player, records, and the remaining beer. “I am watching you all very carefully,” she had said as they had all filed upstairs, shooting each other disgruntled looks. “And the next time I catch one of you causing trouble, I will not be so lenient.”

But if locking kids in basements and bedrooms every night was her being “lenient”, Remus wasn't sure what to expect next. The cane, perhaps, as she’d already threatened once before. Expulsions, probably, although he still wasn’t convinced that she had it in her to do anything so permanent. No one had been expelled from Hogwarts the entire time he had attended; it hadn't even been threatened. There was no one, Dumbledore had once said, who was incapable of changing as long as you gave them a chance.

Then there was the most confusing thing to think about of all, the thing that his mind had been avoiding, obsessing over, dismissing and avoiding again ever since it happened. 

Sirius Black had kissed him last night.

He had said that he, Remus, was “good enough”, in a tender way rather than the way you might say it to someone in a kiss-or-die situation who did not physically repulse you. And then he had leaned up and kissed him.

He had been drunk, of course. Undeniably, stupidly, charmingly drunk. So did that mean he hadn't meant it? Was this just classic Sirius, getting pissed and snogging the nearest warm body? Or had the alcohol stripped away his inhibitions and revealed something truthful, allowed him to do something he genuinely wanted to do, and had perhaps been thinking about doing for a long time?

It was a lot to think about. He wished his head wasn't so fuzzy, or at the very least that he could stop sneezing.

*

Dolores Umbridge liked Sundays. They were a day for rest. A day for quiet contemplation about everything that was to be done during the week ahead. But it was not until she started working at schools that she realised just how precious Sundays could be.

This school, of course, was far more ghastly than any of the others she had worked in. The children were practically feral. She was horrified by the beastly way they all touched each other, and shovelled food into their gaping mouths, and expressed every thought that popped into their nasty little minds. They worshipped those horrid new rock bands like they were Satan himself. In fact, she wasn't sure that they  _ weren't.  _ If that was the way the country was going, if these filthy hooligans were the idols of its youth, surely they were all doomed.

Well, not if she had something to say about it. In troubled times, it was the duty of educators like herself to set children back on the right path. Nothing could be more important - especially when the infection had even reached somewhere like Hogwarts, which for all its faults was still a public schools attended by decent families.

Gryffindor House was the biggest problem, she had quickly learned. Hufflepuff couldn’t say boo to a goose; Ravenclaw mostly kept to itself; the Slytherins seemed as if they might be on her side, given some time. It’s strange how easily children assimilate to the larger group, how a random selection of teenagers can develop its own personality thanks to the influence of a few strong characters. They were like sheep - or perhaps a barrel of rotten apples. She just had to find the source of the decay.

Give her time. After last night’s performance, she was confident that she was already closing in. Perhaps the whole thing would be easier than she thought. Perhaps it would all be over by Christmas.

She hummed to herself as she sat at the desk in her private quarters, indulging in happy thoughts of the progress she had made so far, and all the progress yet to come. She took another sip of her morning cup of rose tea, and then turned the page of her newspaper.

That was when she saw it.

She gripped her favourite teacup so hard that the handle shattered in her hand.

*

Perhaps James wasn't confused about the situation between them, but Lily certainly was. It was embarrassing, really, how quickly holding a boy's hand in corridors and the common room had scrambled her rational thought processes. 

And now, ever since the kiss, she hadn't been able to get James out of her head. Every time her mind wandered, it went straight to the feel of his lips on hers, or the way his fingers had softly but firmly gripped her waist. Worse, she couldn't stop imagining how much better it would be to kiss him without the eyes of half of Gryffindor house on them. Knowing that it was mostly for show, she hadn't been able to fully lose herself in the feeling. But if she got him alone - if they tried again...

It's not real, she told herself, as she sat at a table in the library and tried to study. It's a ruse to mess with Umbridge and get more press. 

But that wasn't exactly right - because James had asked her to go on dates with him at least once a month for the last four years or her life - sometimes once a week, or once a day, when he was feeling particularly persistent. It had been like a challenge for him; the more she rejected him, the more determined he became to prove her wrong.

He asked her out the same way he was always arguing back with her in their classes. It didn't matter what the subject was. If she said Shakespeare was a sexist, he argued he was a feminist for the time period. If she said World War One was pointless, he argued it was unavoidable in the circumstances. If she said religion was opium for the masses, he argued that people needed something to believe in. 

Their teachers loved the ensuing arguments; whole lessons would devolve into intense debates between them, the other students swivelling their heads like they were watching a tennis match. She could never tell if he believed what he was saying or if he just enjoyed arguing with her. But at the end of it all, as they walked to their next class, he would give her that infuriating grin and ask if she wanted to “keep discussing it over dinner.” 

She never knew if he meant that either. She always said no.

It would all start again in their next class. 

But now that she was pretending to have said yes, it was all getting so much more complicated. He wasn't arguing with her all the time - those debates about their schoolwork seemed silly in comparison to the real life crisis unfolding around them, and in real life he was on her side. His arm around her shoulders felt like a shield, protecting her, letting her do her thing, but backing her up every step of the way.

And his plan with the media had been a good one.

And then when Sirius had told them to kiss, she had wanted to. 

He had wanted to, too. At least, it seemed like he did - he had looked nervous, and he had held her so carefully, like she was something precious that he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch. It had been so endearing that  _ she _ had leaned up to kiss  _ him _ in the end.

But she shouldn't have done it. It wasn't fair. If that was how he felt, then she had to be even more clear about the boundaries between them. Their “relationship” was purely for show. There would be no more kissing, not at parties or in private, or anywhere else in between. That's the way it had to be.

Pleased that she had made this decision, she closed the book she had been trying to read, and headed off to the great hall in search of lunch. Food at the weekends was a more casual affair than during the weeks - it generally involved large buffets laid out with cold food that could be grazed on whenever people got hungry. The students were also less worried about sitting at their house tables, instead tending to drift between groups of friends.

As she piled salad onto her plate, she remembered all the weekends she had spent eating with Severus, just the two of them - either studying, or moaning about James and his friends, or else reminiscing about their hometown. 

Normally, only one scholarship student was chosen from each area - the brightest, most promising kid, plucked from obscurity and whisked away from their friends to a magical new world where they could truly shine. 

“But we're special, Lily,” Severus used to tell her. “They couldn't choose between us because we're both brilliant. That's what no one else understands.”

Lately she had wondered whether that was true, and there was a neighborhood somewhere where no kid was sent to Hogwarts that year. Other times, she thought that the numbers probably just hadn't worked out, and they had taken two from Spinner’s End due to the mysterious lottery of demographics alone. Other times, she wondered which of them really deserved their place here.

She shook her head. It didn't matter now - he had ruined any friendship they had once had. Being from the same place didn't mean they had to be close.

She spotted James eating lunch with Peter, and went over to join them.

“Hello,” she said, deliberately sitting next to Peter opposite James to discourage him from any confusing touching. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

James smiled at her, as he always did, any tension from the morning immediately forgotten. She smiled back; she found she couldn’t help it.

“Loads better! Sirius is still in a mood, but we're all right, aren't we, Pete?”

Peter, whose mouth was full and who always seemed a bit afraid of Lily, just nodded. 

“Has anyone mentioned the article to you?” she asked. “I've been in the library all morning and I hardly saw anyone. You know how empty it is on Sundays.”

“Having never been square enough to go to the library on a Sunday, I do not. But I'll take your word for it.”

She batted at him playfully. “Well, has anyone? Mentioned it, I mean?”

“My parents weren't very happy when I called them.”

She frowned. “Because you went to the press? I thought he was a family friend?”

“Not about that; they thought that was hilarious. Mum plans to have a very stern phone call with Umbridge about the new regime. They were just annoyed I didn't tell them about  _ you. _ You're invited for dinner over Christmas. They can't wait to have a doctor in the family.” 

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“Can you be a doctor if you only take English and history and stuff?” asked Peter, looking thoughtful. “Why don't you come to chemistry lessons with me and Sirius?”

James started snickering. “Um. Yeah. I probably should,” she told Peter.

_ Why  _ had she told that journalist she wanted to be a doctor? Would she have to keep that pretence up now too? Would she actually have to spend five years studying medicine just to maintain the lie?

She had been thinking about Alice, of course. Alice was the one who truly had to choose between her boyfriend and medical school. Alice, really, should be the one getting the press on her side.

“Potter. Evans. May I have a word?”

They jumped and looked up - and saw Professor Umbridge standing behind James, her smile still in place but her knuckles white around the stack of files she was holding to her chest. 

“Um,” Lily said. Oh god. Was this it? Were they going to be expelled? Surely it couldn't be over so quickly?

She had been so certain that she was willing to break rules to take a stand against Umbridge. But now the reality crashed over her; if she was expelled today, all those years of studying would be wasted. All those years of arguing with James in class, and putting up with the posh, entitled students around her, and working, working, working to prove that she was just as smart - smarter, even - than all of them. 

“We'd be delighted, professor,” said James smoothly, plastering on his own immovable smile and nudging his foot comfortingly against Lily's under the table. (How did all posh people know how to make that face? That polite, smiling face simmering with loathing underneath? Did they get special lessons as children? Sometimes it was all Lily could do to keep herself from screaming with rage, let alone smiling at her enemies like that.) “What is this about?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Potter. Come along now.”

They stood. James raised his eyebrows at her, as if to say “this should be fun,” and she tried to look nonchalant as she shrugged back at him.

It didn't work. As usual.

“See you later, Pete,” James said, clapping him on the shoulder in farewell, and they left him blinking and alone at the table. 

The three of them said nothing as they walked to the head’s office - Lily out of fear, and James because, apparently, he was relaxed about the whole thing. At one point he even started whistling, which only made Umbridge seem more furious. Lily gave him a panicked look. He winked at her. 

She felt, surprisingly, a little calmer. 

But the feeling did not last long. When they reached the office, Umbridge held the door open for them, followed them inside, and then slammed it shut behind them. 

“Sit down, please,” she simpered.

They sat. Lily twisted her fingers nervously. James reached out and gently placed his palm over her hands to still them.

Umbridge's lips pursed tightly at the sight. “I was just wondering,” she began, voice carefully light, “which part of the new relationship ban had confused you?”

James smiled - and suddenly it was as if his whole aura had shifted. Everything from the way he squared his shoulders to the way he lifted his chin oozed entitlement. He was no longer a goofy teenager; he commanded the room like he owned it. He was, for want of a better word,  _ rich. _ The true power of money wasn't about cars, or holidays, or mansions, she realised. It bought you confidence. It allowed you to walk into any room you liked and act as if you not only belonged there, but as if everybody else was merely there to do your bidding. Normally, such a thought would irritate her, as further proof of just how rigged society was against ordinary people. But seeing James use that confidence as a weapon against Umbridge was oddly compelling.

“What has confused us?” he began. “Now, there's a question. Besides its entire premise, you mean?”

Umbridge said nothing, she just sat and waited for him to continue. 

“Let's start with the entire premise then,” he said with a charming smile, leaning back casually in his seat, still keeping his hand on Lily's but never once breaking eye contact with Umbridge.

“Firstly, I don't really see why students growing attached to each other is something to be discouraged, especially when we're miles away from our families. There's the undeniable fact that falling in love is a normal part of growing up; deliberately stunting that growth can’t be healthy. Not to mention the value to be gained in preparing for the future relationships we will have when we leave school. Well - some of us, anyway.”

He gave Umbridge a genial smile that absolutely implied he thought she was alone and unloveable, and continued.

“Secondly, I don't see how those relationships can be distracting from our studies, when Lily here is the cleverest girl I know, and I've spent all seven of my years at this school trying to keep up with her. Believe me - loving her has made me work much harder than I would have done otherwise. And not just so I could match her grades and be good enough for her - but because she's the most inspiring person I know. She makes me want to be better every single day she’s on this Earth. Just by existing.”

Lily stared at him. Was that true? Was  _ that _ what all the classroom arguments had been about? Or was he still just using his slick public school debating skills to wind people up, only now his target had shifted, so she found it less annoying?

“Anything to add, darling?” he asked her, warmly. She shook her head, a little stunned. “All right. In that case, my final point: regardless of what you think about the other students, there's no logical reason your rules should apply to the two of us.”

Umbridge narrowed her eyes. “And what do you believe makes you special?”

“Well, besides the fact that we’re both charming and brilliant, and keeping us apart would be a true blow to the future of humanity - your argument just doesn't make sense when it comes to us, does it?”

“Why not?”

“We've got the top marks in our year. Between us we've got the respect of the students. Or, most of them, anyway. We're both applying to the best universities, and - I don't want to brag or anything - we'll probably both get in. You said you were banning relationships so we could focus on our studies, but which part of our academic records are you concerned about specifically?”

He cocked his head to one side, like he was genuinely considering the question. His voice throughout was cool and collected - as if he was negotiating a business deal, not fighting to keep them from possible expulsion.

Umbridge raised an eyebrow. “You want special treatment?” she asked. She was good at this game too. Lily couldn't help the feeling that she was allowing James to talk himself into a trap.

James shrugged. “I'm just saying your logic is flawed, that's all.”

“And you agree, Evans?”

Lily nodded, and sat up a little straighter, finally finding her voice again. She could keep her cool, too. She could play their game. She wasn't going to blow up and give Umbridge a reason to punish her. “I do. Frankly, I - I think your new rules might be violating the universal declaration of human rights. According to articles 12 and 16, everyone has a right to privacy, and to a family.”

Umbridge frowned at her, briefly losing her composure for the first time. “The universal declaration of human rights does not apply to disruptive children in the care of an independent school,” she snapped. “And you and Potter are not family.”

Lily swallowed. “I disagree.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James turn his head and beam at her. She kept looking at Umbridge, who clenched her hands together on the desk. “And you felt the need to inform the press of your opinions?”

“Article 19. Freedom of opinion and expression.”

“Young lady, while you are at this school, your human rights are not relevant. The UN does not give you a right to a private education. In your case, that is a gift from this school’s benefactors based on your… unique talents. I am perfectly at liberty to decide how much you deserve their generosity. And at this moment I'm afraid you are sincerely wanting. For that reason you are both stripped of your positions of head boy and girl. And if I wish to expel you -”

Just as Lily was preparing herself for the worst, Umbridge was cut off by the phone on her desk, which started trilling loudly.

They all stared at it for a moment, surprised by the interruption. 

“You gonna get that?” asked James.

Umbridge picked it up reluctantly. “Yes, this is Dolores Umbridge, how can I - oh - Mrs Potter. Yes, in fact, I'm speaking to your son right now and I must say -”

She was cut off. James crossed his legs and smirked at her. Lily couldn't make out the words on the other end of the line, but she could hear the angry voice. She let out a sigh of relief. James squeezed her hands.

“Been getting a lot of these calls today?” he asked innocently.

Umbridge glared at him - but she was glued to the phone, and they all knew it.

“We'll see ourselves out,” James said coolly, and he released Lily's hands and stood. Then he held his palm out for her pointedly, still staring at Umbridge. 

Lily took it. It was sweaty, and he gripped it tightly as they walked out of the office together in silence, leaving Umbridge chained to her desk. 

As he opened the door, he paused and turned back.

“You should speak to your receptionist, professor. It can't be convenient to be interrupted like that.”

Then they shut the door behind them. James leaned against the wall and let out a long breath, closing his eyes like a great weight had been lifted. He held her hand to his chest and rested it there. His face softened, the hard lines of his jaw releasing a little, as if he was shedding the role he had been playing and easing back into himself.

“You did great,” Lily whispered, still conscious of Umbridge in the room behind them. He opened his eyes and smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, the playful teenage sports star again.  

“You too,” he said. “Have you memorised the declaration of human rights?”

She grinned. “I'm thinking of being a lawyer. That's if my medical career doesn't pan out of course.”

He laughed and opened his arms out to her. 

It was easiest thing in the world to fall into them.

For a moment, they stood there, letting relief wash over them. They hadn't been expelled! They had lost their head boy and girl posts, but if anything that only made it easier for them speak their minds - it would change nothing of how the rest of the students felt about them, she was sure.

“What was that about the receptionist?” she asked as she stepped out of his embrace. “Won't you get her into trouble?”

“Nah,” said James, holding out his hand again. After a moment's hesitation, she took it. “The weekend girl is a family friend. I spoke to her this morning and told her to put all the angry parent calls straight through to Umbridge. My parents will find her another job if she gets fired.”

“Of course,” said Lily, rolling her eyes. “The Potter connections save the day again. Do you have any shame about your nepotism at all?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she knew what he was thinking - James Potter was not ashamed of anything. 

She sighed. “Tell her thanks from me.”

*

Sirius was in a bad mood. He had been hungover most of the morning, and when he finally dragged himself out of bed, his friends had disappeared. 

He eventually found Peter alone in the great hall, who told him that James and Evans had gone off with Umbridge and that Remus had been AWOL all day. 

The two of them went to smoke behind the boys’ changing rooms for a while, but it felt wrong somehow. He had a niggling feeling that he was missing something important. 

Remus was still mysteriously absent at dinner, and Sirius's mood was made even worse by the sound of Regulus loudly singing Umbridge’s praises. “Frankly, I think it's absurd to suggest that we perform better without structure. What's to stop the freeloaders from coming here, taking up the professor's time with their inane questions, and holding back those of us who paid for a real education?”

Plus, James and Evans were acting even more strangely than usual. After making out in front of the whole house the night before, they were now acting oddly shy with each other.

He idly wondered whether they'd fought, or whether they'd spent the afternoon shagging for the first time. He spitefully hoped it was the former. 

“What's up with you?” James asked him, as he glared moodily into his plate of food.

“Nothing,” he said.

“You can't still be hungover. Get a grip, mate.”

“I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it.”

James sighed impatiently. “If you say so.”

Truthfully, Sirius didn't know what was wrong - only that something still didn't feel right, and seeing James and Evans all gooey together gave him a funny feeling in his chest. Not jealousy, whatever Remus thought. Or at least, not jealousy that James was going out with somebody. 

It was just - it had always been  _ him _ that James had talked to before. The two of them were always the ones plotting mischief, and pulling off pranks, and throwing parties. Evans didn't get it. She had made James miserable by rejecting him so many times; they had all had to listen to him pine over her. And now she had changed her mind like it was nothing. She had pulled James further away from them - and now he was plotting with  _ her _ all day long instead of Sirius, right when they needed to stick together. They had even spoken to a bloody journalist about what was going on at Hogwarts, without ever mentioning it to the others.

And he still hadn't told Sirius how it had all started. 

“Hem hem.”

Umbridge had stood up from her place at the teachers’ table. 

“Jesus Christ, now what?” Sirius muttered. 

They were used to the routine by now. Every day at dinner she would make a different announcement, introducing some new rule or banning them from another fun thing. Couldn't she at least take Sunday off from making them all miserable?

“Firstly, I would like to congratulate your new head boy and girl,” she began primly, once the students had fallen into silence, “Severus Snape and Alecto Carrow. They will oversee the Disciplinary Squad, a group of students who have volunteered to help you obey the school’s new rules, as some of you seem to find them rather challenging.” 

There was a smattering of applause, and cheers from the Slytherin table. Sirius turned to see Snape leering over at James and Lily. He gave him the finger.

“Secondly, it has come to my attention that some of you have found the new regime at this school worthy of national press coverage.”

James and Lily sat up straighter as more students turned to look at them.

“Now, I realise that this may not have been clear before, so allow me to make it so. Questioning the authority of staff members in the media is strictly prohibited. From this day forward, any student doing so will be expelled immediately.”

In unison, Lily and James both let out a breath they had been holding at the same time. They were safe. 

“Also, thanks to the example of our former head students, and to the feedback I have received from parents today, I am making an amendment to the rules surrounding romantic relationships.”

There was a ripple of excitement. 

“I still believe they are inappropriate for young people of your age in a school setting. Public displays of affection will still not be tolerated, nor are boys allowed into girls’ dormitories or vice versa. But if you can prove your relationship has not affected your grades in any way - in other words, if you receive the top marks in every class you attend - you will be allowed to return next year, and I will not mention it in your university recommendations. That is all. Good night.”

She sat down again and the room exploded with chatter, all heads turning towards James and Evans, who had both gone bright red.

“Well,” Sirius said, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I guess you got away with it. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, congratulations,” echoed a girl from the Slytherin table. “Shame about the rest of us, eh?”

“It's a start,” James bit back at her, turning in his seat. “It's not our fault if you're thick.”

“You want to say that again to my face, golden boy?”

“I just did,” he said.

Evans rested a hand on his arm. “Leave it,” she warned.

He turned back around in his seat, and the girl sneered and looked away.

“Dandy,” Sirius said breezily. “Now that that's cleared up, who’s going to help me cause a little chaos around here?”

“No,” Evans told him. “There's been enough chaos - Gryffindor is already on thin ice for last night.”

“And?” Sirius demanded. 

“And James and I were almost expelled today, it’s a miracle we only lost the headship. We have to keep being clever. We got the dating rules loosened by finding a loophole, and applying pressure from outside. Anarchy doesn't solve anything, Black.”

He scoffed. “Big deal, you’re not head girl anymore. We have to prove she can't tell us what to do. If we break the rules together, she can't expel all of us.”

“Lily's right,” James said. 

Sirius dropped his fork. “You what?”

“She's right,” he repeated firmly. “We have to be smart about this.”

“Since when?”

“This is too important to just - go in all guns blazing and start blowing stuff up.”

“That’s more fun though.”

“It's not about what's fun,” James said exasperatedly. “This is serious.”

“I'm aware of that,” Sirius said through gritted teeth. “That's why I'm not just going to roll over and start playing by her rules.”

“If we start causing mayhem, we’ll only prove her right. She’ll keep thinking we're a bunch of hooligans and it will give her even more reason to clamp down hard on us.”

“She's going to do that anyway! Where have you been? It's already getting worse every day. It's like the - the fucking - the frog in the water.”

James looked at Sirius like he had completely lost his mind. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't cook a frog by putting it straight in hot water. It just jumps out of the pan. But if you put it in cold water and keep raising the temperature, it doesn't even know it's reached boiling point.”

“How do you know about cooking live frogs?” asked Evans. “Is that normal in your family?”

Sirius glared at her. She always had to make it about class, like being from a poor background made her experiences somehow more authentic than the rest of them. (He didn’t want to admit to her that his family had a cook, and so he had next to no idea how to cook anything in real life.) “I'm just saying. The frog isn't going to  _ reason _ its way out of hot water. A loophole won’t save its life. It's time to jump out of the pan.”

“We made progress today,” Evans said. 

“Progress for you, maybe. Christ - if Remus was here, he'd understand… where the hell is he?”

“Oh,” James said. “He's in the hospital wing.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I saw him this morning. He had a cold coming on, so he had to go.”

_ “And you didn't tell me?” _

“You were passed out all morning!” James pointed out exasperatedly. 

Sirius stood. “I'm going to see him. Enjoy your food.”

“Sirius -”

But he was already walking away, clenching and unclenching his fists, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. 

It wasn't James’s fault he hadn’t told him, he reminded himself. Remus hated talking about being ill - Sirius was the only one he had confided in, the only one who had heard how lonely and afraid Remus was in hospital as a kid - and how every time he went back, all those memories resurfaced. 

“Don't tell the others,” he'd told Sirius, one long whisky-fueled night when their friends had already passed out. “I don't want them pitying me.”

“What about me?”

“You're pitiful too,” Remus had joked. “You don't count.”

Sirius quickened his pace as he walked towards the hospital wing. He didn’t bother knocking - he just pushed on the door and walked straight in. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was nowhere to be seen. But Remus was sitting up in his usual corner, reading  _ 1984. _

Sirius walked over and sat on the end of his bed, swinging his legs up and crossing them. Remus looked up from his book, took in Sirius’s shoes on top of his blankets, and apparently decided to ignore them.

“Hullo,” he said. “Miss me?”

“You didn’t tell me you had a cold,” Sirius accused him.

Remus turned a page, and Sirius fidgeted. He wanted Remus to look at him. “I thought about it,” Remus said. “But when Evans was knocking on our door this morning you almost murdered James. I intuited that you were best not disturbed.”

“You intuited wrong. You can always disturb me.”

“Can I?” asked Remus lightly, one eyebrow raising slightly. Sirius wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and he shifted uncomfortably again.

“Yes. Of course you can. Especially if you’re - if it’s because - you know,  _ this.” _

“The imminent possibility of my untimely death?”

“Shut up. No. Just - you know - you hate hospitals.”

“True. And yet, alas, I am doomed to a life of drifting between them.”

“You’re not doomed,” Sirius growled. He hated when Remus was like this - distant and evasive, every word laced with irony. “Are you angry with me?” he demanded.

Finally, Remus lowered his book and looked at him. He sneezed. Sirius noticed, for the first time, how pale he looked. He hoped it was just the lighting.

“No, Sirius, I’m not angry with you. Why would I be angry?”

Sirius shrugged. Now that he had Remus’s full attention, he felt even worse. He had a sudden flashback from the night before - himself lunging upwards without warning, his lips pressed against Remus’s, Remus pulling away and staring at him in horror. “I got you in trouble,” he said, instead of any of that. “In detention. And it was cold down there - and then I gave you alcohol…”

“Are you really blaming yourself for me having a cold?” Remus asked, his voice softening for the first time.

“I know you hate being here…”

“Sirius. Come on. It’s not your fault - people get colds sometimes at this time of year. It’s not about the room temperature or a couple of beers. It’s about being stuck in a building with hundreds of kids who probably don’t wash their hands properly during flu season.”

Sirius nodded, looking down at his own hands, which he had made a special point of washing thoroughly ever since he learned how dangerous getting sick could be for Remus.

“The only way to keep me safe would be to keep me from ever being around other people,” Remus continued. “And then what would be the point of surviving cancer at all?”

Sirius nodded again. 

Remus kicked at him gently from under the covers. “Are you all right?”

“Will you do a prank with me?” Sirius asked, all in a rush, looking up at Remus from under his eyelashes. “You said, when she first arrived, that you’d help me hatch a plan. James is still being a prissy goody-two-shoes woman about it. He and Evans say we shouldn’t be breaking rules right now - they’re doing their own thing I guess - but I reckon now is exactly when we should be breaking every bloody rule in the bloody book.”

There was a pause, as Remus considered him quietly. Then he nodded. “Yes, I’ll still help you. Just wait for me to get out of here, yeah? And try not to get thrown out before I do.”

Sirius smiled and launched into all of the plans he had been brewing over the last few days. Remus smiled back, and started asking questions, trying to help him pinpoint an idea that might work - that the two of them could pull off by themselves, and that would humiliate Umbridge the way she was trying so hard to humiliate them.

It was the first time Sirius had felt like himself all day.


	6. Monday, 31st October, 1977

“Sirius Black - what are you doing in here?”

Sirius snapped his eyes open, and realised three things all at once.

Firstly, he was not in his own bed. He was in the hospital wing.

Secondly, he was lying next to Remus Lupin, who was facing away from him and snoring softly, and whose feet were tangled up with Sirius's own beneath the covers.

Thirdly, a somewhat startled Madam Pomfrey was standing over the two of them.

“Um,” he said. “I fell asleep.”

“I can see that.”

Now that the shock had worn off, an inscrutable expression had crossed over her face as she looked down at the two of them. If he didn't know better, he would think she was quite amused.

“I was keeping him company. Because he has a cold, you know. And... Well... Then it was late…” He scrambled around for a plausible excuse, but settled for a charming grin instead. “I didn't want to break the curfew?”

“I believe that by sleeping away from your dormitory, you have broken the curfew anyway,” she pointed out. “And I really ought to report you. Unless, of course…”

“What?”

She reached out, and placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

“Ah,” she said. “It's good to see your temperature dropped back to normal overnight. You can never be too careful with fevers - it was very sensible of you to come in.”

Sirius beamed. It was his lucky day! He could feel it in his bones: everything was going to start going right again.

Madam Pomfrey took a little notebook and pencil out of the pouch in her apron, scribbled down a note, and then tore it off and placed it on the bedside table next to him.

“That will answer any questions,” she said. “Run along now - it's almost time for breakfast.”

She swept out of the room, leaving Sirius blinking in her wake.

“Right,” he said.

He basked in the funny, warm feeling in his chest. It was sunny outside. He hadn't slept so well in days. Madam Pomfrey was on his side. Anything might be possible.

He looked over at Remus, who had slept through the interruption, and who looked far less pale than he had the night before. In fact, there was a pink flush to his cheeks that was almost cherubic; his face wouldn't have looked out of place on an elaborate church ceiling in Italy. Maybe not in Rome or Florence - he wasn't _that_ handsome - but perhaps in one of the provincial towns, where they wanted to keep up with the Renaissance but couldn't afford one of the heavy hitters, so they got some bloke who claimed to be Raphael's cousin to do it on the cheap.

“Right,” Sirius said again, shaking his head, and he slowly began to extract his legs. He knew that Remus had fallen asleep long before him, exhausted and dosed up on cold medicine. But he had no idea when they had gotten so close in the night - or why Sirius hadn't just slept in one of the other empty beds on the ward.

Probably because Madam Pomfrey would have noticed an unmade bed - fat lot of good that plan turned out to be.

He heard the distant sound of the bell ringing for breakfast. Now that Sirius had eased himself carefully out of bed, Remus made a huffing noise in his sleep and rolled over, flinging his arms across the space where Sirius had been just moments before. His light brown hair looked almost gold against the white pillow in the morning sun. Without realising quite what he was doing - and presumably delirious from sunshine and a lack of breakfast - Sirius reached out to touch it.

It was sweaty. Sirius's fever might be imaginary, but Remus's temperature was still running high. Sirius hoped he hadn't made it worse by sharing the single bed.

“Get a grip,” he told himself, shaking his head again, and he left the hospital wing to get changed and grab some food before his first class.

It was chemistry. He walked in, late, half an hour later with a piece of toast still in his hand. The whole class was silent, each with an identical piece of paper on their desks and not a bubbling test tube in sight. They turned to look at him when he entered. At the front of the room, Slughorn was sitting at his desk, and behind him the blackboard read “Practice exam - 1hr”. Watching over it all from the corner of the room was Professor Umbridge, head-to-toe in pink and a clipboard in hand.

“No thanks,” Sirius said cheerfully, and he turned on his heel to walk out.

“Come back, Mr Black, or I will extend your detentions until Christmas.”

He stopped, and turned around slowly. He was still in a good mood. He really didn't want to ruin it. “The thing is, professor, lessons aren't actually mandatory. We only learn if we want to. It's in the brochure.”

“Yes, I am aware of my predecessor's philosophy, thank you,” Umbridge said, smiling sweetly. “But as you well know, your lessons are mandatory now. And so are regular examinations of your progress.”

“Dumbledore didn't believe in testing, either,” Sirius told her, although of course she already knew that. “He said tests stifled our creativity.”

“And I say they raise the standards - of everybody,” she said, giving a meaningful look towards Slughorn. “Now tell me - why are you late?”

Wait - he had an answer! God bless Poppy Pomfrey, a walking angel. “I was sick!” he declared triumphantly, pulling her note from the pocket in his trousers. “I was in the hospital wing for observation - I only just got out.”

Umbridge walked over to inspect the note, and appeared irritated by its authenticity. He grinned up at her wickedly. “Very well,” she said. “Take your place and begin your test. You have distracted the other students long enough.”

He took a bite of his toast, chewing it and making a show of thinking deeply about her request, crossing his arms across his chest. He heard Peter snort with laughter.

“Nah,” he eventually said, as if coming to a decision. “I don't think I will.”

“Black,” Slughorn said from the front of the classroom, as Umbridge seethed. “Come on, my boy. You've had your fun.”

Sirius, who until then had rather been enjoying causing a scene, felt a white hot flash of anger. Did no one else want to fight back? Why was Slughorn reprimanding him for standing up to that woman, rather than joining him? Why were all of his classmates diligently taking her test like they had no choice in the matter?

Well, he wasn’t about to just roll over. James and Evans could fanny about playing by the rules if they wanted, but there was nothing like a bit of outright mayhem to make your voice heard.

“Actually my fun has barely even started,” he snarled. He pulled a small glass vial out of his pocket - one of the stinkbombs from their prankster days that James had told him not to use on Umbridge. He had grabbed it on a whim while he was getting changed, taking advantage of the empty dorm without his friends’ disapproving stares.

“Mr Black,” Umbridge snapped. “What is -”

He hurled it right at her feet. It smashed on the tiled floor and she leapt backwards with a shriek. He folded his arms and smirked as the room began to fill with the unmistakable stench of rotten eggs. Half the students covered their noses; the others started laughing. Slughorn tried to look disappointed in him, but Sirius thought he was he making a pretty poor show of it.

Umbridge, who had pressed her sleeve over her nose, stalked across the room and grabbed him by the arm.

“With me, Black.”

“Good luck with the test everybody,” he crowed as she dragged him away, and the students started a slow, nervous applause - led by Peter, who was grinning from ear to ear, bless him. Then they began filing out of the classroom to avoid the stench, practice exam seemingly abandoned.

Mission accomplished.

Sirius had assumed they would be heading to Umbridge's office for a stern talking to. Instead, she led him towards the entrance hall, and then through the nondescript door and down into the basement-dungeon.

“Bit early for detention, isn't it?” Sirius asked Umbridge.

She ignored him, simply guiding him towards one of the desks, releasing his arm and waiting. “Sit down, please,” she said eventually, after he had stared at her long enough.

He sat with a heavy sigh, crossing his legs and tilting back in his chair.

She nodded, and then walked to the edge of the room, where he heard her rummaging around as if she was looking for something. He didn't turn around to watch, as he was pretending not to care what it might be. Instead, he ostentatiously inspected his nails and whistled.

When she came back into his line of vision, she was concealing whatever it was behind her back.

“Hands on the table.”

“Why?” he asked

“Now, please.”

He let his chair drop back onto all four legs with a sigh, and put his hands on the desk in front of him.

He opened his mouth to talk back some more - but before he could say a word, or even allow his rugby reflexes to kick in, she had held up a long, thin rod of bamboo, and brought it cracking down onto the back of his hands.

He yelped with pain, jumping out of his chair so quickly that it crashed to the floor behind him.

“What the hell?” demanded Sirius. He rubbed the back of his hands, trying to soothe the stinging sensation. That had been no warning blow - he had felt it strike right down to his bones.

“Sit down, please, Black, there have been enough dramatics for one day,” Umbridge said, her voice as light as ever, as if he was a naughty toddler who wouldn’t eat his vegetables.

“No way!” he protested. “Not if you're going to do that again!”

Dumbledore had never hit them. Not once, no matter how misbehaved they were, no matter how normal it was in other schools, he had outlawed caning the moment he arrived. “Barbaric,” he called it. “Simply barbaric.”

It was one of the reasons that Sirius, who had been well used to physical punishments at home, had respected him so much.

“Seeing as you already have detention tonight, and for the rest of the week, I'm afraid you left me no choice,” Umbridge said, her voice infuriatingly reasonable. “Sit down, now - you're only making things worse for yourself.”

“Forget it! You can't make me!”

He wasn't a scared little boy any more. He didn't have to sit there and take it. Not from her - not from anyone.

She sighed, and tapped the cane in her palm, as if thinking carefully. He could overpower her in a struggle, he thought wildly. But he didn’t move.

Eventually she came to a decision. “Well, if you're sure - there is one other option. I suppose I will have to leave you here.”

“What?”

“Troublemakers must be punished, Black, or they never learn, and there will never be order.” She brought the cane down in her palm with a final, fierce crack. “And there _will_ be order at Hogwarts while I am in charge. And _you_ have proven yourself to be quite the troublemaker. So if you will not submit to the cane, I will just have to leave you down here to think about everything you have done.”

He blinked. “For how long?”

“Oh, just for the day I think. That should help the message sink in.”

He swallowed. He wasn't very good at being by himself - perhaps he should have stuck with the cane after all. But then, he didn't want her to know he was scared. “I'll get hungry,” he said instead.

She smiled. “I'll ask the new head boy to bring you something at dinner.”

Sirius grimaced. Snape would probably spit in his food, if he bothered to bring it at all. And… no lunch? Would he really have to survive on half a piece of toast for the next nine hours?

“I could just leave,” he pointed out.

“Ah,” she said, and pulled a brass key out of her skirt pocket. “I'm afraid you couldn't.”

He tried one final, desperate bid for reason. “What about my classes?”

She looked surprised. “Why, Black, you said it yourself - classes at Hogwarts aren't mandatory. It's in the brochure.”

With that, she carefully placed the cane back in the corner of the basement where she had found it, and made her way back up the stairs and out of the room. The door slammed behind them. The lock clicked.

And Sirius was alone.

*

“...And then he just pulled a stinkbomb out of his pocket, yelled ‘my fun is just getting started,’ and threw it right at her. It was amazing.” Peter finished telling the story with a flourish.

Lily buried her head in her hands. “He's going to get expelled.”

“Where is he now?” asked James.

Peter shrugged. “I haven't seen either of them since.”

“Maybe be already _has_ been expelled,” Lily suggested lightly, but she regretted it when a look of sheer horror passed over James’s face.

“No,” he said, shaking his head as if to banish the idea from his mind. “We'd know. He'd come and find us - he wouldn't go quietly.”

“Where do you think he is, then?” asked Peter. They were all sitting in the Great Hall at lunchtime, but Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

“Probably keeping Remus company again,” said James, though he was running a hand through his hair nervously. “You know what they're like - if they're apart too long they start getting tetchy.”

“I thought that was _you_ and Sirius,” Lily said, confused. All their school life, she had rarely seen James and Sirius separated.

“We're like brothers,” James explained. “But Sirius and Remus are like wives.”

“What about poor Peter?” she asked. As usual, he looked vaguely alarmed to be noticed by her.

James grinned. “Peter is our darling little pet rat, isn't that right, Wormtail?”

“Piss off,” Peter said, kicking him under the table - but he was smiling, like it was an inside joke.

“Well, I hope Remus can talk some sense into him,” Lily said. “He's no good to anyone if he gets kicked out of school.”

“Ah, he's all right,” Peter shrugged. “His plan worked, didn’t it? We didn't have to do that test in the end.”

“It's not just about not doing tests,” she pointed out.

He frowned. “What's it about then?”

“Justice,” she said. “And freedom. And our rights.”

“Yes,” Peter said slowly, like she was being dense. “Our right not to do a test if we don't want to.”

James snickered. Lily couldn’t help but laugh too. When they had first agreed to their pretend relationship, she had thought that spending lunchtime with James and his friends would get on her nerves. But they were surprisingly fun. Maybe it all it took was a school crisis to bring them all together.

The bell rang, and she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“See you later, snookums,” James said, leaning over and kissing her on the top of her head while Peter made gagging noises. She rolled her eyes. James had been insisting on trying out nicknames for her all morning, and she had to agree with Peter; they were revolting.

“See you later, idiot,” she said.

He clutched his heart and staggered back like she’d wounded him, then grinned, waved, and headed off for his next class.

Lily started to make her way to the common room. She had a free period next, which she was planning to spend plotting their next move. The complaint call from Mrs Potter the day before had given her an idea, but she wanted some time to figure out the logistics before she explained it to James.

When she stepped through the door and towards her favourite seat by the fireplace, however, she found it was already occupied.

“Alice? What's wrong?”

Her friend was sitting with her feet up on the chair, arms hugging her legs to her chest, and weeping. She looked up when she heard Lily approaching and hiccuped, wiping her tears furiously before breaking down again.

“What happened?”

“It’s Frank,” she said, when she finally managed to get the words out.

“What? Is he okay? Did he get in trouble?”

Alice shook her head. “No… he dumped me.” She broke into a fresh wave of tears.

Lily’s mouth fell open. She rushed to Alice’s side, and threw her arms around her. Alice and Frank had been dating for years - Lily had known them longer as a couple than she had known them apart. The idea that they would break up was unfathomable. It was like the Queen announcing she was getting a divorce; it just didn’t add up right.

“Why?” she asked. “Because of Umbridge?”

“Obviously,” Alice spat, and Lily realised with a jolt that she wasn’t just upset - she was furious. “He said I shouldn’t risk my career. And he’s probably right. But that was my choice to make, you know?”

“Yeah. Of course it was. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Alice wiped at her eyes again angrily. “It’s over now. She’s won. I will no longer be distracted by my raging teen hormones.”

“She hasn’t won,” Lily said fiercely. “I promised you and Frank that I wouldn’t let her. And I’m not done yet - we’re getting somewhere.”

“Yeah, you and your new boyfriend are doing a bang up job,” Alice said bitterly.

“Hey. We’re trying.”

Alice sighed, and covered her face with her palm. The fight began to ebb away, just a little. “I know.”

Lily bit her lip. “You’re angry with me. Why are you angry with me?”

“It’s just… it seems like the only progress you’ve made is about you.”

“What?”

“Well… Umbridge changed her mind about relationships, but only for the kids with top marks. That’s you and James. What about the rest of us? Frank doesn’t have top marks - he doesn’t need them. He wants to be a policeman, and they don’t really care if you got straight As. Dumbledore always told him it wasn’t the most important thing.”

“I know,” Lily said, sinking into the armchair opposite Alice. “It’s totally unfair. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do - you’ve been with James five minutes, and suddenly you’re the golden couple that gets to stay together. But you didn’t even like him a week ago - I’ve been with Frank _years_. And it’s not like he’s stupid, or he doesn’t work hard. Why should we break up just because his exams are less important?”

“You shouldn’t,” Lily said. “I wish you hadn’t - I wish you could tell him to hold out a little longer. I’ve got a plan -”

“And that’s another thing,” Alice cut across her. “Why did you tell that journalist you wanted to be a doctor?”

Lily felt a sinking feeling in her chest. “I…”

“Because you don’t, do you? _I_ want to be a doctor. You’re applying to do law. And you don’t love James, you once told me he was the most annoying person in school. I don’t know why you changed your mind - but no one goes from hating someone to being the love of their life that quickly. In fact, everything you said in that article sounded exactly like what _I_ said to you the night before.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lily said. She wanted to undo everything - to turn back time to the moment she was talking to the journalist, and tell him the truth, without worrying about what would make the better story. More than that, she wanted to turn time all the way back to before Dumbledore left, so she could warn him and stop it from happening. Or, perhaps, back to when she was 11-years-old, before she had ever even heard of Hogwarts. Maybe she should have just gone to the state school in Spinner’s End, like she was supposed to, and she wouldn’t have had to worry about what she said to journalists, or taking down her headteacher, or the malign intentions of the Black family. She could just be normal.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” said Alice. “I hope you’re both very happy. God knows, someone deserves to be.”

*

Remus was not happy. He was bored, and irritable, and his cold had turned into a cough that seemed to live right in the bones of his chest, where his sternum met his ribcage. He had finished his book sometime in the mid-afternoon, but he couldn’t concentrate on the stack of homework his teachers had sent him “in case he felt up to it”.

Madam Pomfrey was doing that well-meaning but entirely off-putting thing that adults did whenever he got sick, constantly checking his temperature and hovering around him nervously with a forced smile. It was like they were waiting for a neon sign that said “leukemia’s back!” to suddenly appear above his head. Or, even worse, like they were waiting for him to suddenly “take a turn” and start asking for his mother.

God, he hoped they hadn’t called his mother. Once, when he was 14, she drove all the way up from Wales by herself, risking being fired from her crummy cleaning job, just because he’d got a “stomach bug.” (He hadn’t dared tell her that it was actually all thanks to the first time Sirius had made them try whisky.)

He wondered what his friends were doing without him - whether their jokes flowed more freely, whether they felt a slight hint of relief that he wasn’t there reminding them of his own fragile mortality all the time. Perhaps Evans, now, was filling the role he’d always played - that of a conscience, a voice of reason and caution, a calming influence amidst the madness. If it wasn’t for Sirius (who Evans was absolutely not a calming influence on) he would wonder whether they still needed him at all.

Where _was_ Sirius, anyway? He normally made a point of visiting Remus at least once a day while he was in the hospital wing. (Once, when Remus got shirty and accused him of hovering around in case he died, Sirius had said “No, I just like hanging out with you for some reason, you miserable cretin,” and then punched him in the head to prove that he knew he could handle it. It was oddly comforting.)

Remus still hadn’t got to the bottom of what had happened at the party. They had spent the whole of the previous evening together, plotting what to do to Umbridge, and they hadn’t mentioned it once. It was like it had never happened - they had never kissed.

It was for the best, probably. Things were complicated enough as it was, and Sirius was one of the few things in his life that he felt he could truly depend on. He didn’t want to ruin it with confusing kissing and complicated feelings. And he was sure that if Umbridge didn’t want boys and girls together, the idea of two boys would send her through the roof. And even if somehow all of that didn’t matter, and he and Sirius really were supposed to be together the way that people like Alice and Frank were - if such a thing was even possible for two boys, which he was sure it wasn’t - it still wouldn’t work. Remus would be condemning Sirius to a life of endless hospital appointments and cancer scares, until he resented him so much for stealing his youth that he was relieved by his probable early death.

Still.

There had been a moment, that morning, while Remus was pretending to be asleep, when all of that had fallen away. He had felt their feet entwined beneath the covers, and the press of Sirius’s arm against his back. He had listened to Sirius’s appalling attempts to explain away the fact that he had fallen asleep in Remus’s sick bed - the man should never consider a career at MI5, he was a terrible liar - and tried to keep himself from smiling at the way Madam Pomfrey had let him off. And then, when he had been sure that Sirius was about to leave, and was inwardly preparing himself for the long day of boredom ahead, he had felt a hand brush over his hair. It was so light he almost missed it - but it was unmistakably there, and unmistakably Sirius’s.

And for a moment - before Sirius audibly snapped himself out of the strange fit of emotion that had apparently overcome him - Remus had thought, _maybe this is what it’s like._

To wake up next to someone. To be the kind of person who moved someone to strange fits of emotion before breakfast. To have them leave, but know that they will return in a few hours.

To be loved.

But he was being stupid. Sirius did not _love_ him. He was not wandering the school, pining over the thought of Remus’s boring brown hair. And he _hadn’t_ returned in a few hours.

No one had.

He lay down and pulled the blankets up and over his head. He should sleep - this was getting too morose, even for him. Perhaps, when he woke up, his cold would have disappeared and he could finally get back to his classes and his friends. Perhaps he would be so elated by the miraculous cure that he would finally grab Sirius by the shoulders and - and what?

Ask him what was going on inside his head?

Kiss him?

Kill him?

He wasn’t sure, but when he finally plucked up the courage, he knew it would change everything.

*

“Hey, sleepyhead. We brought you some rice pudding! There's jam and everything.”

James placed the bowl on Remus's bedside table and sat down on the chair next to his bed.

“I brought your deck of cards, in case you're bored,” Peter said. He sat down cross legged on the next empty bed.

Remus sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked tired, but pleased. “Hey. You came.”

“Of course,” James said. “Did you doubt us?”

Remus smiled. “Never. What's the news?”

“Umbridge said she’d search the dormitories and confiscate all of our ‘awful punk music’ at dinner today. She's running out of ideas, if you ask me.”

James decided not to mention the strange atmosphere at dinner: how most of the students had grown quieter and more withdrawn over the weekend; how the Disciplinary Squad, now kitted out with red “DS” badges, had stood at the doors checking students for uniform infractions as they walked in, and giving detentions for the slightest slip-ups; how when Umbridge made her latest announcement (something that would have caused an outrage just a week ago) they shrugged and went back to picking at their food or talking quietly with their friends.

The fight had gone out of them so quickly. Alice and Frank hadn't even shown up; Lily spent the whole meal worried about how they were feeling and trying to think of ways to get them back together.

“I bet Sirius loved that.”

James frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know, he's probably already planning to start blasting The Clash right outside her office window.”

“Sirius wasn't at dinner,” James said.

“Where was he?”

“We thought he was here, with you.”

“No. He hasn't been here since this morning… when did you last see him?”

“In chemistry, first period,” said Peter. “He showed up late, caused a scene, and then Umbridge dragged him off.”

“ _And no one has seen him since?”_

Remus was looking between them, horrified.

“Shit,” said James. Shit, shit, shit. His best friend was missing and he hadn't even noticed. No wonder Remus looked upset - they were terrible friends.

“How could you not look for him?” Remus asked, incredulous. “What if Umbridge has done something to him?”

“You know what he's like, he goes off to sulk sometimes. I'm sure she hasn't done anything.” James plunged a hand into his hair. He felt like he could pull it all out of his head, with both hands.

Remus swung his legs out of bed and stood.

“What are you doing?” James asked.

“I'm going to look for him.”

“Remus - no - I'll go.”

“I'm fine.”

“You're not fine.”

“It's just a cold.”

“ _You're not fine._ Stay here. We'll find him and make sure he's okay, I promise.”

Remus sat back down. He was glaring at James with such fury, he could burn a hole right through him.

“I'm sorry,” James said. “Come on, Peter - we'll split up.”

They left Remus behind, shutting the the door to the hospital wing behind them. They paused in the corridor.

“Where should I go?” asked Peter.

James tugged at his hair some more while he thought. Why was he always the one who had to make the decisions in a crisis? “All his usual haunts outside,” he decided. “The changing rooms, the edge of the forest… if you can, try to sneak past the gate to The Hog's Head. I'll check the school - and Umbridge's office.”

Peter gave him a salute, and made off towards the grounds. James turned and headed for the common room.

He hadn't been there all day. Maybe Sirius was fine - he was probably holed up in their dorm room, playing angry records and feeling sorry for himself.

But he wasn’t in the common room, and when he went upstairs, their dorm was empty.

He went back downstairs and found Lily in her favourite chair, reading and chewing on a pen. Her hair was a mess, like she'd been nervously running her hands through it almost as often as he had his own.

Of course, he still thought she looked beautiful.

“Hey,” he said resting a hand on her shoulder. “Have you seen Sirius?”

She looked up at him, frowned, and shook her head. “No. Doesn't he have detention?”

“Right,” he said, and then smacked his palm on his forehead. “Right!” Sirius had detention all week; possibly all month. He had spent a good chunk of the weekend complaining about how cold and boring it was going to be.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we're just worried about him. I'm gonna go find him…”

“Why? James, what’s going on?”

But he had already fled, again, down the stairs and towards the entrance hall. He hadn't been to Umbridge's weird detention dungeon before, but Sirius had said it was through a door towards the back.

He was sure that was where Sirius was, and he wanted to get there immediately. He had a strange feeling in his gut, a familiar sixth sense telling him his friend needed him.

He'd always known when Sirius was in trouble when they were kids. They spent so much time together - sleeping, eating, learning, playing rugby, always within a few feet of each other, like they were tied together by an invisible cord. Sirius even spent most of his holidays at James’s house with his family; his mum treated him like a long-lost son. They could communicate without words, and they always knew what the other was thinking, because more often than not they were thinking the exact same thing. It was even more pronounced on the rugby pitch; he wouldn’t even have to look to know that Sirius was exactly where James wanted him.

So where had that feeling been earlier? Why had it taken him all day to realise that something was wrong? Had they lost their connection somehow?

He tried to remember the last conversation they'd had that wasn't fraught with tension, and he couldn't. It had been days. That wasn't normal - they’d had fights before, but they’d never let it fester for so long. Usually they would just shout it out, thump each other a couple of times, and then clap each other on the back and it would all be done with.

He rounded a corner into the entrance hall, desperate to see his friend and apologise for whatever was going on so that Sirius could call him a loser, punch him, and laugh. And then things could start getting back to normal.

He stepped towards the nondescript door in the corner just as it opened.

A long line of kids started trailing out, each of them shivering with cold and blinking in the light. They were hugging themselves for warmth. The younger ones all looked scared and upset, while the older ones just looked angry.

The last student to emerge was Sirius, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets and his shoulders hunched over. He was followed by Umbridge, smiling to herself at a job well done.

“Sirius!” James called. He stepped forwards, past the other kids, clapping the ones he recognised on the shoulder encouragingly as he went. They all gave him thin, tired smiles.

Sirius looked up at him, surprised by the sound of his own name.

But he didn’t smile. He hunched his shoulders further, bowed his head, and walked right past James without saying a word.


	7. Tuesday, 1st November, 1977

Alice Fortescue had never thought about the word “gutted” in much depth before. It was the sort of phrase that you repeated occasionally, in the heat of a moment, without really considering its meaning.  
  
Her older brother had described himself as “gutted” when he didn't get into Durham University, for example. Frank had been “gutted” when the Hogwarts rugby team lost the regional finals the year before. Alice herself had once said she was “gutted” that the kitchen had run out of butterscotch-flavoured Angel Delight.  
  
But it was only now that she truly understood it.  
  
Really, she didn't know why “heartbroken” was the most common metaphor for the recently, unintentionally single - her break-up with Frank was entirely located in her stomach. As she lay in her bed, watching dawn break through the thin dormitory curtains, she honestly felt like someone had stuck a knife in her abdomen, sliced her up and open, then pulled out her guts and left her hollow. Her sadness was causing her physical pain, and it was so debilitating that she didn't think she would be able to get out of bed when the breakfast bell rang. How could she, when her intestines had been pulled out and strewn across the floor?  
  
People could live without their stomach or large intestine. She had read that in one of the medical textbooks in the library. It wasn't comfortable, or advisable, but it was possible. So she knew that she would, and could, go on living - even without her boyfriend or her digestive system.  
  
It's just that she'd never thought that she would have to. She'd never thought that feeling gutted could be so agonisingly literal.  
  
“It's for the best,” Frank had told her. “I won't let you throw away your career for me.”  
  
“Let me!” she had wanted to scream. “Let me throw it away!”  
  
But she hadn't, because deep down she knew that she would always choose being a doctor over being a wife, and that if she made a different choice - even if it was for the love of her life - she would spend the rest of her days regretting it.  
  
But now that the conversation was over and she had spent a sleepless night replaying all of the things she could have said to him in response, she kept coming back to those same words: “I'd throw it all away!”  
  
But they didn't matter, because she still wasn't going to say them out loud, because she didn't really mean them, and he couldn't hear her in the boys' dormitory, and anyway she was missing some fairly major organs.  
  
“Alice? Are you coming to breakfast?”  
  
She turned her head away from the window. Lily was standing at her bedside, already dressed, looking down at her with concern.  
  
When had her roommates woken up and started moving around? She hadn't even noticed. It had all got so much quieter since Marlene left.  
  
Now Marlene, there was a girl with the right idea. No compromises, no sacrificing who she was, no weighing up of the risks and rewards for her future. She had stopped enjoying her life at Hogwarts, and so she had left it behind. All in about 24 hours.  
  
Alice couldn't remember the last time she'd made an important life decision so quickly. As a child she had spent weeks deciding what kind of ice cream sundae she would have on her birthday at her father's shop.  
  
The problem was, every time you made one choice, you closed all of the other doors that were lying open for you. If you picked chocolate that meant you couldn't have strawberry. If you picked strawberry that meant you couldn't have toffee.  
  
If you picked medicine that meant you couldn't have Frank.  
  
Alice didn't want to choose, because she wanted all of them. Chocolate, strawberry, toffee, job, kids, dog, house, husband. Everything. She always had.  
  
She never thought she'd have to choose so soon.  
  
She never thought that someone else would make the choice for her.  
  
“Alice?”  
  
“I'm not hungry,” she said flatly.  
  
“You still have to get up,” Lily told her, but she didn't sound convinced. “For lessons.”  
  
“I'm not going today.”  
  
This was a first. Alice had always gone to class, even when she didn't have to during Dumbledore’s days. She _liked_ learning. The idea that it was optional only made her want to do it more; it made it into her decision, about her own future, one that was being built by her own hands.  
  
But not today. And she knew that all the years of going, of doing the homework, meant that Lily wouldn't try to force her.  
  
“You can't force me,” she said for good measure, and she wanted to sound bitter because she was still pretty pissed off with Lily, actually. But instead she just sounded a bit pathetic.  
  
“No,” Lily said sadly. “I can't.”  
  
She reached out a hand, as if she was about to stroke Alice's hair, or give her a comforting pat on the shoulder. But then she withdrew it again, and folded her arms.  
  
“I'll check on you later,” she said, and then the bell rang and she left with Dorcas, and Alice went back to thinking about her intestines.  
  
*

“It was bleak,” said Lily as she stirred honey into her porridge at breakfast. “It was really, properly bleak. I've never seen her look like that before, it was as if she barely even noticed I was there. I think I preferred it when she was yelling at me.”  
  
“It sounds awful,” James said, reaching out his hand across the table. She took it, and he squeezed.

A member of the Disciplinary Squad barked at them to keep their hands to themselves.

She sighed and let go. It was too early.  
  
“You know what I think is bleak?” piped up Peter. “I haven't had a single strip of bacon in five days. Every morning it's been porridge, porridge, porridge. I'm starting to forget what a fry up tastes like.”  
  
“Yeah, that's the real problem here, mate,” Sirius agreed. “We can always count on you for some perspective.”  
  
The others laughed, and Peter looked like he was half pleased to have made a funny joke, and half indignant that no one was taking his porridge complaints seriously.  
  
Maybe he was right. If bread could start the French Revolution in the streets of Paris, perhaps porridge could start a similar uprising in a Scottish boarding school. Lily imagined herself erecting a giant guillotine right in the middle of the rugby pitch.  
  
“What are you smiling about?” asked James, bumping his foot against hers out of sight under the table and grinning impishly.  
  
“Nothing,” she said, and she found herself grinning back at him. She couldn't help it; James's smile was irritatingly infectious. It was one of the things that made him truly infuriating. “What are you doing at lunchtime?”

“Going on a date with you?” he suggested, looking hopeful, and Sirius made a hurling noise from right in the back of his throat.

She rolled her eyes. “Let's grab some sandwiches and eat them in the common room. I want to...” Her eyes slid towards Sirius. She knew that if she mentioned planning anything to do with Umbridge, he would insist on being involved, and then he would suggest blowing up her office or something equally ridiculous, and then he would get angry when she said no. They'd never get anything done. She’d been avoiding acting too gooey in front of people - partly because of the PDA rule but mostly because she knew she was a bad liar - but perhaps she didn’t have a choice this time. “I want to have some time alone,” she said instead, lowering her voice a little.

James's grin got even wider. “Of course, pumpkin!”

“You know, I'm starting to think Umbridge is right,” Sirius muttered darkly. “You two _should_ be banned from being together. I can feel my brain cells melting every time you talk to each other.”

Peter snickered.

James ignored them both and grinned at her.

The bell rang, and he surreptitiously took her hand as they walked to their next class, hiding from the beady eyes of Umbridge’s followers in the melee of students.

She gripped back, clinging on a little harder than usual. The pet names, the forehead kisses, the arms around the shoulder - they all felt awkward and unnatural. But James had nice hands, and she liked holding them. His fingers were long and skinny, like the rest of him, and when she laced her own fingers through them, they fit perfectly.

It was amazing how such a simple gesture could make her feel so safe and anchored.

She was going to miss it when she finally worked up the guts to call the whole thing off.

*

Getting to hold Lily’s hand every day was, honest to god, the best thing that had ever happened to James in his entire life. He was ecstatically happy - he wanted to grab hold of every person they walked past and say “Look! Look what I get to do! Have you seen how insanely lucky I am?”

Sometimes he felt a niggling guilt that his happiness had blossomed from such an unhappy situation. Of course he wished that Dumbledore was still around and his friends weren’t breaking up, or running away from school, or being locked up for hours in a freezing basement. But weren’t unhappy situations when you needed to cling to happiness the most? Would anyone really begrudge him that?

Of course, he knew they weren’t really together. He hadn’t forgotten her warning that he shouldn’t get “confused”.

But what she didn’t seem to understand was that holding her hand wasn’t confusing for him at all. It was just _right._ It was exactly what his hands had been made for. It was precisely what he had dreamed of doing since he had met her seven years ago, and now that it was happening it was even better than he’d imagined. He knew - he absolutely knew, right from his core - that she was the love of his life. Who cared if she didn’t feel the same way yet? He still got to hold her hand every day.

There was nothing confusing about it.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” he asked her cheerfully, when they settled into the fireside seats in the common room at lunchtime.

“I want to think about our next move with Umbridge,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and picking up a sandwich. “We need to work out how to make her life difficult without breaking any rules and getting thrown out. You were right about going to the press, but we can’t do that again now she’s explicitly banned it. Even if we ask to stay anonymous, she’ll know it was us. We need to find a new way to apply pressure from outside.”

“Okay,” he said. “How?”

“Tell me about your parents.”

He blinked. She was watching him intently. “There’s not a lot to tell,” he shrugged. “They retired when Dad sold his business before I was born. They’re older than most parents - they thought they couldn’t have kids, but then they had me.”

“That explains a lot,” she smiled, and although she was making fun of him it was hard to get offended when she looked like that.

“That’s all there is, really.”

“Why did they send you to Hogwarts?”

“Same reason as Sirius’s parents did. It’s an old family school. All of the Potters and Blacks come here.”

She frowned. “Did they like Dumbledore?”

“Oh yeah - they’re not like the Blacks at all, if that’s what you’re worried about. My dad thinks Dumbledore’s a bloody genius, says he’s revolutionising education. They both love the scholarship scheme too; Mum calls it’s ‘right on’. They can’t wait to meet you.”

Lily blushed and shifted uncomfortably. “All right,” she said, barrelling past it awkwardly. “Is that what most of the posh parents think? How many send their kids here because of tradition, and how many chose it for the politics?”

James thought carefully. He’d never really thought of himself as posh before, although he supposed that’s how he must seem to Lily with all his talk of “old family schools”. But he wasn’t posh like Sirius was; he wasn’t _aristocratic,_ he didn’t live in London and stand to inherit an earlship one day. His dad was rich and well-connected - there was no denying that - but he had worked hard for their money when he was younger. Now they lived on a farm in the English countryside, where his dad raised prize sheep, his mum spun and knitted their wool by hand, and he, James, mostly roamed outdoors.

But it was a rural life they had chosen, and which they didn’t depend on for their livelihood, which he knew made all the difference.

He tried to think about Lily’s question, but the truth was he didn’t really know.

“A bit of both, I suppose,” he said eventually. “Pete’s parents chose it for the politics; they can barely afford it but they didn’t want him to go somewhere normal. Sirius’s parents hate the politics, but they couldn’t bear to break with the family tradition. That’s why they - well, you know.”

“Marlene’s parents chose it for the politics too,” Lily told him. “When she left, I asked if they would be angry that she was wasting their tuition fees, and she said no. I think there must be a lot of parents like that; who are paying to have their children raised experimentally, without rules or hierarchies.”

“Champagne socialists and ex-hippies who got rich, you mean,” he said.

“Yes, I suppose. And your parents can’t be the only ones who were angry that it’s all been changed. She must have had more phonecalls since the article came out, and kids have started telling the parents what’s happening.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m sure I am. Much as I hate to admit it, they’re the ones that we need to get involved. The ones with the money.”

“What do your parents think?” he asked. He realised that he knew very little about them, beyond the fact that her dad was a milkman and they were - he assumed - not very well off.

“Oh,” she said, and she tucked her hair, which had fallen forward, back behind her ear nervously. “I haven’t actually told them.”

“Why not?” he asked, surprised.

“They don’t really… get it,” she admitted. “They’re happy that I have the opportunity and everything, they weren’t going to turn down a free public education, especially as I said I wanted to come here. But they don’t really understand Dumbledore’s ideas. And if they found out why he’d been forced to resign… well, they would probably be quite glad.”

“They don’t like gays?” asked James bluntly.

“No,” she said. “Not really. They’re not bad people - but if I complained that our new head had made going to class mandatory and given us all a curfew, they would probably think it was fairly reasonable.”

“Haven’t they read about it in the paper?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Not everyone reads The Times every morning, Potter.”

He felt a little foolish, and - for the second time in five minutes, and possibly his entire life - uncomfortable about his poshness. “All right. So we focus on the rich lefties. What about them?”

“Well, you know what this weekend is, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Our game against Gordonstoun, only Umbridge has still banned the rugby team so I don’t know if we’ll get to play. I can't stand Gordonstoun. Now _there’s_ a school full of posh twats.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And… what?”

“It’s bonfire night,” she said, exasperated.

“Oh. Oh!”

Bonfire night was not a particularly big deal in Scotland, but Dumbledore was unfailingly English, and he adored it. Every year he organised a huge fireworks show in the grounds on the nearest Saturday, and the students built a massive bonfire, then danced around it, screaming and beating their chest like those kids in _The Lord of The Flies_. The parents were invited to visit their children and join in. Usually, for obvious reasons, only the rich ones made the trip. (Although they generally left the screaming and dancing to the students.)

“Do you think it’s still on? I doubt Umbridge is a fan of something so, uh, wild.”

“She hasn’t told us it’s cancelled. I don’t think she knows about it, the invites were sent out before she arrived - I know because my parents told me they weren’t coming. As if I hadn’t guessed that already.”

She kept her tone light, but James could hear the slight note of sadness underneath. “Well, that means you can spend even more time with my folks!” he told her brightly. “They’ve never missed bonfire night before.”

She gave him a wan smile. “About that… are you sure it’s a good idea to introduce me? As your... girlfriend. It won’t make things complicated?”

He felt a flicker of panic. Was she going to take it away? “Complicated? No! What could be complicated about it? The complicated thing, I reckon, will be if I don’t introduce you after they’ve read about your burning passion for me in the national press. I can’t tell them we broke up a week later - it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Don’t you think we’re… you know, a little… in over our heads? I keep thinking about something Alice said yesterday. She said we’re telling her story, not our own. Isn’t she right?”

James pushed back his hair back. “Well, we can’t stop now, can we? Umbridge will think she’s got to us.”

“But the other students - it isn’t fair on them that we get to be together and they don’t. Especially when we’re not even…” her voice trailed off. “You know.”

“I think it’s fine, Evans,” he said confidently, although inside his heart was thumping desperately. He couldn’t let her call it off, not now. It had only just started. He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. “People like to see other people be happy, don’t they? It gives them hope. That’s what we’re doing.”

She smiled at him with a superior but amused look on her face, the way you might smile at an earnest child telling you it wanted world peace. “You’re terribly sweet sometimes, you know that?”

He beamed. She thought he was sweet! Sweet was surely only a few leaps away from devilishly sexy. “I do know that, as a matter of fact. My mum says it is my best quality.”

“Yes,” she mused. “It’s just a shame you insist on spending the rest of your time being an insufferable arsehole.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Delightful! She was delightful.

“So what do you want to do to Umbridge on bonfire night then?” he asked once he’d collected himself.

Her shoulders sagged. She sighed. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

*

Madam Pomfrey discharged Remus after dinner (and an entire day of him nagging and needling and insisting that he was okay). Now he was finally free - and his cold had only lasted three days, which was nothing really, even though it had felt like a lifetime.

He couldn’t bear the thought of getting straight back into bed, so instead of taking a right towards the Gryffindor dorms, he took a left and headed towards the entrance hall.

Sirius had told him all about being locked up in the dungeon the day before. He and Peter had visited at lunchtime, complaining that James and Evans had abandoned them for some “afternoon delight”, as Sirius put it.

“That means shagging, Remus,” he had clarified. “They’re naked and sweaty and shagging each other right now! Without us!”

Remus had folded his hands in his lap. “Well, I’d rather that than have them shagging each other _with_ us.”

Peter had laughed. Sirius’s ears had gone pink, and he’d moved on to explain where he had been the day before.

Remus had been appalled. More than most, he knew how it felt to be stuck somewhere you didn’t want to be. He knew the terror of isolation, the gnawing feeling of abandonment, the way restless panic slowly turned into a kind of helpless numb acceptance that was far, far worse.

“You’re not going back there again tonight?” he had asked, when Sirius had mentioned the evening of detention ahead.

“I don’t have much choice,” he had shrugged. “You know what happened last time I caused trouble there - she punished all of us for it. Even the little ones. Even you.”

Remus had forgotten that he was supposed to be in detention all week too, but when Sirius reminded him he got an idea.

He checked his watch and quickened his pace - he wanted to get there in time. Luckily, as he rounded the corner into the entrance hall, Umbridge was still shooing the last students down the steps.

“Wait for me!” he called, and she turned to look at him.

“Mr Lupin. You’re feeling better, I see.”

“A little,” he said as he reached her, and then he coughed pointedly. “Sorry I missed detention yesterday, I got Madam Pomfrey to write me a note. But I came as soon as she let me out.”

She glanced at the note he produced for her and nodded. “Yes, all right - get downstairs then. You remember your lines?”

“ _I must not break curfew,”_ he repeated for her obediently.

“Very well,” she said, and ushered him through the door and onto the dusty stairs.

“By the way - I bumped into Professor McGonagall on the way. She says she has something urgent to discuss with you and Filch in the East tower. Something about students worshipping ‘the occult’? Does that mean anything to you?”

“I will be back soon,” she said. “And I'm locking you in this time. Don't cause any trouble.” Then she slammed the door in his face. He listened for the click of the lock turning, and the clack of her heels hurrying across the flagstones.

_Evil,_ he thought, out of nowhere. _She is actually evil._

He descended the stairs, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. When he got to the bottom, he stopped in surprise.

When he had been there for detention on Umbridge’s second night, there had been five students. Now, there must have been around 50, all hunched over the little desks in rows, diligently writing out lines. Some of the smallest ones were sniffling with tears already. Others were shivering and rubbing their arms for warmth. Remus didn’t blame them; he could see his breath appearing in little icy clouds in front of his face as he walked between the desks.

He reached the front. Sirius was bent over his paper, wearing his leather jacket, a red and gold Gryffindor scarf, and a wobbly red hat.

“Nice kicks,” Remus told him, and Sirius jumped in alarm.

Then he saw who it was and grinned. “Mrs Potter sent the hat in the post this morning. James must have told her about the temperature down here. Do you like it?”

“It’s very punk rock,” Remus said seriously, trying not to laugh. “Sid Vicious would be proud.”

“You bet he would. Here, you should take it though, it’s cold.” And before Remus could protest, he had stood, whipped it off his head and pulled it over Remus’s ears instead.

“ _Sirius,”_ he complained. “We’ve been through this. I’m fine, you don’t need to keep worrying about me.”

“I’m not worried. I thought you would look charming in it, that’s all, and I was right. Now what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for detention of course.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Really. You’re stuck in a hospital bed for three days, and the first thing you do when you’re released is volunteer to be locked in a dungeon-basement.”

“All right, no,” he admitted. “I’m here to bust you out of this joint.” And he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of Madam Pomfrey’s hairpins.

Sirius’s eyes lit up, and he whooped, and pulled Remus into a rough hug. “You’re a bloody genius!”

“Thank you,” he gasped, suddenly struggling for breath. “I think you might be right.”

“But…” Sirius let go, and glanced around at the other students, who were staring at them in surprise. Carrow was glowering from the back of the room.

“Do you two fairies want to sit down and shut up before we all get it in the neck?” he demanded when Remus caught his eye.

Sirius ignored him, shifting so that his body blocked Remus from Carrow’s sight. He lowered his voice. “What about the rest of them? If we leave, they’ll get in trouble too.”

Remus nodded. “I thought of that. I’ve got a plan.” He gently put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder and moved him to one side, so he could see all of the students again.

“Um - hello,” he said, a little nervously. He wasn’t used to so many eyes looking at him at once; he usually left the speeches and theatrics to James and Sirius. “We’re going to go now. If Umbridge comes back and asks, tell her Remus Lupin had a medical emergency because the conditions down here were too harsh, and Sirius Black had to take him to the hospital wing. Try to look especially cold and sickly when you do it, hopefully it will spook her a little. I’ve sent her and Filch on a wild goose chase to the East Tower; it will take them at least 30 minutes to reach the top and then come back, so we’ll leave the door open. If any of you want to go, you can, but take it in turns so you don’t look suspicious. And make sure you swing by the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that you’re feeling a bit fluey. She’ll write you a note, and that way the rest of you shouldn’t get in trouble. Is that all clear?”

Fifty heads bobbed up and down. Carrow folded his arms and glared some more, but he didn’t try to stop them or say anything threatening.

“Good - let’s go then.” They walked back through the rows of desks and up the stairs, students whispering excitedly as they went.

When they reached the door, Remus handed Sirius the hairpin. He got down on one knee, stuck it into the lock, and began working it up and down slowly, leaning his ear towards the keyhole as if he could navigate the mechanism by sound alone. And maybe he could - because after a few moments, with a satisfying _click_ , it came loose.

“Piece of cake,” Sirius said, standing and turning the handle. They crept out into the empty entrance hall. “Where do you want to go?” he whispered, looking around. “Not back to Pomfrey, surely?”

“No,” Remus said, and he looked at the huge wooden doors to the castle. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t had fresh air in days.”

Sirius looked at him unsurely, and then shrugged off his leather jacket.

“I don’t need -” Remus began, but Sirius just shushed him, and handed it over. Remus sighed. There was no point arguing - and the longer they stood here, the more likely they were to be caught. He put it on, and Sirius took off the scarf too. Remus looked at his newly exposed Adam’s apple, which bobbed up and down as he reached up to wind it around Remus’s neck. Then he looked up and into Sirius’s eyes, which were boring into his with an intense look that was somewhere between pride and concern.

They were inches apart. Sirius kept held of the scarf, even though he had finished putting it on, leaving his hands hovering unsurely at Remus’s chest.

Remus swallowed. “Let’s go,” he croaked, and Sirius nodded and released him, and the moment was over. They tiptoed quietly towards the door, and Sirius opened it as slowly as possible, wincing as it began to creak. Remus slipped through the gap, and Sirius followed and shut the door.

Remus took a deep breath of fresh air. _He was free._ It was a clear night, and the stars were glittering above them, and they had a whole two hours before curfew began.

“The changing rooms?” he asked. But Sirius shook his head. “Too risky - someone might see us from the castle.”

“Hogsmeade?”

“Too many teachers.”

“Well, where then?”

Sirius raised a finger and pointed towards the forest, which was the only bit of the grounds that Dumbledore had insisted was out of bounds.

Of course, it had never stopped them running around in there at all hours of the day and night anyway.

“We’ll have to make a run for it, keep to the edges and hope no one’s looking out of a window,” Sirius whispered. He took Remus’s hand and set off in a jog, pulling Remus behind him. They kept close to the castle walls at first, ducking undeneath any brightly lit windows, and then took the long way around the back of the glittering steel grey lake. By the time they had passed one or two trees into the dark forest, Remus was out of breath.

“Stop,” he panted, tugging on Sirius’s hand. Sirius stopped. “Let me catch my breath,” he said.

Sirius, who infuriatingly had barely broken into a sweat, just nodded and let go. He leaned against the pale trunk of a silver birch tree. “Come here,” he said.

Remus, who had bent over double to take deep breaths, looked up. “What?”

“Come here,” Sirius said again, and he reached out his hand. Remus stood up straight and stepped towards him slowly. For one wild moment, he thought that Sirius wanted to take his hand again, or - even more incredible - put his arm around Remus’s waist.

Instead, he reached his hand into the pocket of Remus’s jacket - which was, of course, _Sirius’s_ jacket - and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“I’m not going to offer you one while you’re wheezing like a girl,” he said, putting a fag into his mouth and flicking the lighter. The flame burst into life, illuminating his face gold for a moment in the moonlight. When it was lit, he took a long drag, closing his eyes in relief, then turning his head to blow the smoke away from Remus slowly.

Christ. That warm pale skin, those long elegant fingers, the way his grey school jumper was frayed at the cuffs. Remus was beginning to think he might not survive the night after all. He took a careful step back.

“Thanks for breaking me out,” Sirius said casually, taking another drag. “I wasn’t sure I could face another night down there.”

“It’s all right,” Remus said, his voice sticking in his throat. “I guessed.”

Sirius nodded, unspoken understanding passing between them. Remus leaned against another nearby tree and stuck his hands in his pockets.

They listened to the noise of the forest, which was always quiet but never silent. The leaves rustled with wind. A few feet away was the scampering of something small and fast - a mouse or a squirrel perhaps. An owl hooted in the distance.

Once, when they were about 15, they had been exploring the forest when they had come face to face with a wild red deer. They had stopped in their tracks. It had stared at them, and they had stared back.

“Far out,” James had whispered, entranced by the antlers sprouting majestically from its head.

Remus, however, had felt a ripple of fear. He didn’t like wild animals - there was something dangerous about them, something that made him uneasy. The deer was still, but it was powerful. If it wanted, it could lower its head and run straight at them. Those antlers would hurt. Those hooves could trample them. And as he locked eyes with the creature, he felt as if it saw right through him and understood something about himself that he never could.

Then James stepped towards it, and Remus said, “James, don’t!” and the stag had fled.

Remus hadn’t been back in the forest much since.

He glanced at Sirius, who was finishing his cigarette. He dropped it to the ground and stamped out the embers with his shoe.

“I hate her,” he said quietly, still looking down at the ground. “I really hate her.”

“I know,” Remus breathed, and for a moment he wondered if Sirius had even heard him, but then he looked up at him and nodded.

“She’s ruining everything. Those kids in detention are fucking terrified of her, they won’t dare stand up to her. James is being a prick about it, he’s off in his own world with Evans and he refuses to let me help. When was the last time he didn’t want my help with something? We can’t play rugby, we can’t ask questions, we’re stuck in our dorms like prisoners. All those rules and punishments. It’s like being at home.”

“I know,” Remus said again.

“Do you?” Sirius threw his hands in the air. “I feel trapped, Remus. I thought I’d escaped that world. I’d found somewhere I could be free, and now it’s gone, just like that. And it makes me _so angry_. All I want to do is shout and break things and tear the place to the fucking ground with my bare hands, but everyone’s all _we have to do this carefully._ Well, bollocks to that. If someone comes into your home and shits all over it and locks you in the basement, why should you have to be careful?”

“I don’t know.”

Sirius was clenching and unclenching his fists, like the fury was coming in waves.

“We’re not just going to take it,” Remus reminded him. “Let James do his thing - you and I still have a plan.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, and he ran a hand over his forehead tiredly. “It’s just…”

He trailed off.

“What?” asked Remus.

Sirius looked down and mumbled something.

Remus stepped closer. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said it’s _my fault._ It’s my fault she’s here. It’s all my fault.”

Remus blinked, and stopped in his tracks. “How?”

“My parents,” he said simply.

“That’s not your fault. They’re nothing to do with you - you didn’t make them do it.”

Sirius kicked at the fallen leaves gathered around his feet. “I did.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“ _I did._ We argued about it over the summer. Mum kept saying what a terrible job Dumbledore was doing, how his reforms had destroyed important traditions, how letting in kids on scholarship was bringing down the standards for everyone. I told them I thought he was a genius. They didn’t like it.”

“Did they hurt you?” asked Remus, feeling his own anger start to simmer. Sirius had told him, once, when they were much younger, how his father liked to punish him with kicks in the ribs, how his mother used her long nails to pinch at his skin and draw blood. Remus’s blood had boiled with rage and disgust, but he hadn’t known what to say or how to help. They hadn’t talked about it much since.

“No. I’m too old for that now - they know I could thump them back. But the rest of it is relentless. Once they zone in on something I love, they like to pick and pick at it, they start talking it down in front of me, and finally they take it away from me if they can. They fired my favourite nanny when I was little. They threw out my records collection one year, snapped each disc right in two and dumped them in the bins. They tried to pay off the Potters, James told me. They offered his dad money to stop having me over in the holidays. The Potters said no, obviously, and sent them packing. But this time it was all about Dumbledore. They realised I liked him so they decided to take him away. And they did. And now the whole school is paying for it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Remus said, stepping closer again. “You couldn’t have stopped them. You didn’t know what they were planning.”

“I should have warned him. Reg told them about the rumours - he said I only liked Dumbledore because he was queer, the little shit, right in front of them. _That_ didn’t go down well.”

“Christ. So do they think you’re…”

Sirius shrugged. “I told them it was none of their business.”

“ _Sirius.”_

“What? It _is_ none of their business. And I knew it would drive them up the wall thinking they had a poof for an heir.”

“That could have gone so badly. People have been killed for that sort of thing, or thrown out on the streets.”

“I wish they _would_ throw me out on the streets. It would make things easier.”

“You don’t mean that,” Remus said, taking another step closer. He was just inches away now. He could see that Sirius’s hands were trembling, that his eyelashes were wet, that his lips were chapped with the cold. He licked them.

“You have no idea what I mean,” he said.

And then Remus kissed him.

*

Fucking _finally._

Sirius reached out to grab the lapels of his jacket, and used them to tug Remus closer until their their chests bumped against each other.

The other boy’s lips were softer than Sirius's. He remembered that, dimly, from the last time they had done this, when Sirius had been drunk and Remus had pulled away.

Well, he wasn't pulling away now. He had slammed his mouth against Sirius's so hard that his head almost hit the tree. Remus was pushing, and so Sirius pushed back, like he was trying to fuse their mouths together.

This wasn't like the last time they kissed, when it had been messy and all over the place. This was purposeful, and precise. And it wasn't like kissing girls, who were soft and slow and liked to work up to things. Remus had gone from 0 to 100 in seconds.

It wasn't enough. Sirius pushed him off, breathless, still holding onto the jacket. They stared at each other.

“Sirius,” Remus said. “I…”

Sirius spun him around, and pushed him against the tree. He wanted him steady, he wanted his hands free. He leaned forward and kissed him again, slower, opening his mouth until Remus followed and then let his tongue run over his lips, his teeth, and finally inside and across the roof of his mouth. He let go of the jacket and placed his hands on Remus's chest, running them up and down over his jumper. He felt Remus relax a little, and reach up to put his arms around Sirius's neck. His tongue started moving too, finding its way into Sirius's mouth.

He let out a grunt - _embarrassing_ \- but then the sound made Remus moan softly in the back of his throat and all self-doubt flew from his mind.

 _This._ This is what they should have been doing all this time. Forget planning pranks or studying for tests or talking about their damn feelings. Now that they were touching each other, _really_ touching each other - he felt Remus's hand tangle in his hair and so he dragged his lips across his jawline in response - he couldn't remember why they ever did anything else.

As Remus's mouth got a moment's respite, he drew in a gasp of air that was so incredible that Sirius had to bite at the delicate skin just behind his ear at the top of his neck, scraping his teeth over it and then pressing down his his lips and sucking.

Then Remus ruined it by talking. “Wait,” he said. “What is happening?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Sirius growled, pulling his lips away for a moment. “Anyway you started it.”

“ _You_ started it,” insisted Remus, which was both untrue and entirely unimportant. “You kissed me at the party.”

Oh. Right. Okay, maybe Sirius had started it.

“Fine,” he said. “I started it. Are you going to let me finish it?”

And then Remus started giggling, actually giggling, high-pitched and breathless and verging on hysterical.

Sirius sighed, and pulled his head away so that he was looking Remus in the eyes. “Mood killer.”

“Sorry,” Remus gasped, still laughing and trying to catch his breath. “It's just - hahaha - it's just - oh my god - haha - _let me finish_ \- oh, bother.”

And then Sirius was laughing too, because he couldn't help it, because Remus was _so ridiculous_ and of course as soon as they finally solved the tension between them he would get all silly and unhinged after just three goddamn minutes.

“You are so ridiculous,” he told him earnestly.

“I know - I know.” And Remus, whose hands were still in Sirius's hair, brought him closer again until their foreheads were touching. He was still wearing Mrs Potter’s absurdly bright red hat, and so Sirius pulled it off and shoved it in one of the jacket pockets. Remus was still chuckling to himself, but he was calming down now. He had closed his eyes, and as he took deep breaths he started rubbing his thumb gently up and down over Sirius's scalp.

Sirius tilted his head, and pressed his lips softly against Remus's, with less urgency than before, and Remus opened his mouth anyway so that their tongues could lazily move back and forth.

They stayed that way - kissing and kissing, sometimes gently, sometimes fiercely, always leaning in again if one of them broke away, until their lips were numb and Sirius felt dizzy and strange, and they heard the bell ringing for curfew in the distance.

“Bugger,” Remus said, breaking away and looking over his shoulder towards the school. “We weren't supposed to be out for this long.”

“We bloody well _were,”_ Sirius said. “We were supposed to be doing this for hours. Days. _Years_ of our lives were supposed to be spent doing this.”

Remus smiled at him, and leaned forward to kiss him one more time on the lips, and then released him.

“Come on. If Umbridge hasn't sent a search party already, James will when he realises we’re missing.”

Sirius groaned and stepped back. “Why'd you have to mention them? Now? You really are a mood killer.”

“I had to get you to let me go somehow,” he teased. “Back the way we came?”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. You're a hard man, Remus Lupin.”

And then Remus started laughing again, and Sirius felt himself blushing, and then he rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind him, all the way back to the castle.


	8. Wednesday, 2nd November, 1977

Peter was having a lovely dream. It was just him and his three best friends, laughing and lounging in the sun in James's vast garden, as they had done for two weeks straight last summer. (Could you call it a garden when it was actually just fields and woodlands? Real Peter hadn't been sure. Dream Peter had a parrot standing on his head, so he was less concerned with semantics.)

“We should do this more often,” the parrot was saying.

Peter's friends ignored him. They had stood up now, and James was helping Sirius to climb on Remus's shoulders, but he kept falling off. They were all giggling and pushing each other, a tangle of arms and legs and floppy hair.

“I miss this,” said the parrot, sadly.

Now James and Sirius and Remus were walking back to the house in a row, arms flung around each other's shoulders.

“Have you forgotten me already?” the parrot wondered.

“Peter! PETER!”

Where was that voice? Was James coming back for him?

A pillow hit him on the head, quite rudely, and he rolled over and groaned. It was reality, then. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not.

“Get up! It's time for practice! _You_ want to do some rugby training with me, don't you?”

Peter rubbed his eyes. “Wha? Now?”

“Yes, now. I don't know if you chaps remember, but we have a game on Saturday. Against Gordonstoun of all places. Gordonstoun, my arch nemesis! Where the heir to the ruddy throne went.”

“You call every school your arch nemesis,” Peter pointed out, quite accurately.

“Yes, well, I mean it this time. Don't you want to be in tip-top shape? Isn't the track calling you? Aren't your muscles aching to be stretched?”

“No. Make Sirius go with you.”

“We're all going. And I don't care how many times Sirius punches me.”

Peter sat up, and saw James already in his rugby kit, rubbing his arm like it had indeed just been punched. He was surprised to see that it was still mostly dark outside.

“Time is it?” asked Peter.

“Five thirty!” beamed James, like this was a normal time to be up and bothering your mates. “Chop chop!”

“Umbridge cancelled the rugby you insufferable beanpole,” Sirius snarled from across the room.

“Aha!” James yelped. “She hasn't!”

Sirius pulled the pillow that he had apparently been trying to suffocate himself with away from his face. “She hasn't?”

“Nope. Not the match on Saturday, anyway. Yesterday I called Gordonstoun pretending to be a confused dad asking for directions. They sent me here.”

“They did?” asked Sirius.

“See, I knew that would get your tail wagging. Your candle burning. Your cookie crumbling.”

“Shut up.” But Sirius sat up, and started rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“That's clever,” Peter said. He would never have thought of impersonating a parent on the phone. And if he had, he would have been too scared to actually do it, or he'd have fluffed his lines and given himself away somehow.

“Why, thank you, Peter,” said James, puffing out his chest proudly. “Why don't you get out of bed and put on those charming running shorts of yours, hmm? Then we can go and wake up the others.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled, swinging his legs out of bed and wincing as his bare feet touched the cold floorboards.

“Why don't you all piss off and leave me to sleep?” demanded Remus from his corner of the dorm.

James laughed maniacally, but Sirius looked uncharacteristically guilty as he pulled on his trainers. “Right you are,” he mumbled. “Let's go,” he snapped at the others and he stalked out of the room and shut the door behind him, like they were the ones holding him up.

Peter looked at James, hoping for the easy reassuring smile that was usually on offer in moments like this.

Instead, James was staring at the door and grinning. “Training!” he whispered, rubbing his hands together with a mad glint in his eye. Then he chased after Sirius.

Peter sighed, and looked sorrowfully at his pillow, and then quickly changed and followed.

*

Remus was grateful when his friends finally stopped bickering and left him to sleep - and to think.

He had kissed Sirius last night. It had been his idea, but Sirius had kissed him back, and then they had kissed so much they lost track of time. Every time Remus closed his eyes, he remembered how it felt to have Sirius’s chest pressed up against his. He remembered the tongue in his mouth, the scrape of teeth against his lip, the soft locks of his stupid floppy hair between his fingers.

What would happen now?

Was Remus really queer, like Dumbledore? Was Sirius? Would people care?

Would they ever do it again?

He tossed and turned, unable to find the answers to any of his questions, until his alarm went off and he groggily got out of bed and dressed.

When he got down to the Great Hall, his friends were looking clean and freshly showered, all ruddy-cheeked and healthy from the morning’s exercise and fresh air. Remus felt like a ghost in comparison; he probably hadn’t looked that wholesome since he was a toddler. But then he spotted Sirius, and he felt his heart lurch, and the corner of his mouth tug up in a smile.

Sirius noticed him staring, choked on the sip of orange juice he had been taking, and then dribbled it down his jumper and grinned at him as James slapped him on the back.

Nothing had changed too much, then. Good.

“Good practice?” he asked casually, taking the empty seat opposite Sirius and helping himself to yet another bowl of porridge. (He was with Peter, this was too much porridge now.)

“Great,” said James, always the most susceptible to exercise endorphins. “I feel like I could run another mile. Take on world hunger. Maybe kill a tiger.”

“Perhaps just pick one for now, hmm?” Remus suggested. He glanced at Sirius, who was still beaming at him like a madman. “What?” he hissed. “Have I got bedhead?”

“Nope,” said Sirius cheerily. Then he felt an ankle twist around his leg under the table and pull it closer.

Sirius was still grinning at him.

_Oh._

He coughed. “Good,” he said, not really knowing what he was referring to, who had last spoken, or what time of day it was. “Yes. Right. Good.”

Sirius’s ankle shifted, moving up his leg a little, and all thoughts cleared from his mind. Good lord. Was this it now? Was this their lives? Was he going to go braindead every time Sirius was nearby for the rest of time?

“So it’s a secret?” asked Lily, and Remus and Sirius jumped apart, banging their knees on the table.

“What’s up with you two?” James asked them, frowning.

“Nothing. What’s up with you?” Sirius challenged, coming off bizarrely aggressive and defensive.

“What’s this about a secret?” asked Remus, trying to keep his voice light.

“Gordonstoun,” said James, still looking at them like they were dense. “We can’t let on to Umbridge that there’s a game on Saturday, so the team has to keep training in the early mornings. Hooch is in. She said she ‘didn’t take this job to cancel games of rugby’. Then when the bus full of Snoredonstouns shows up, Umbridge can hardly turn them away.”

“Right,” said Remus. “A secret. Got it. Has everyone agreed, or am I going to have to listen to you whine about it every morning?”

“Everyone except Carrow,” James sighed. “It’s a pain - he’s a mug, but he’s all muscle. And those kids are tough, we need all the strength we can get up front.”

Peter - the team’s other prop - looked worried. “Who’s gonna replace him if he doesn’t agree?”

“I don’t know. Frank, maybe.”

This did not seem to put Peter’s mind at ease; Frank was tall, but gangly, and notoriously clumsy no matter how much he tried to control his wild limbs. Peter would have to take charge. They all knew - Peter most of all - that he wasn’t very good at that.

“You’ll be okay,” Remus tried to reassure him, pleased that things like rational thought and empathy had returned to him now that he and Sirius were no longer touching.

He wondered when they could start touching again, and looked up to catch his eye. Sirius was already watching him, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. A bit of porridge slopped onto the table.

Sirius smiled.

Remus moved his foot towards him and hooked it around his ankle.

The bell rang for first period, and the benches scraped back as students stood in tired unison.

“You go ahead, Pete,” Sirius said. “I'm gonna nip to the loos first.”

Remus dawdled too, letting James and Lily walk to McGonagall's English class hand-in-hand without him while he unpacked and packed his bag pointlessly. (That is, they were hand-in-hand until Snape barked at them to stop touching, and James let go in order to flip him off.)

Sirius moved around to his side of the table and then paused casually like he'd forgotten something. Out of sight, he pressed three fingers to Remus's hip.

It was fire. It was electricity. It was lightning that jolted right through his wool jumper and deep into his bones. He almost fell over right there in the dining hall, and had to grip the old oak table for support.

“You know,” Sirius said lightly. “It's a beautiful day outside. I don't really feel like learning today, do you?”

Remus closed his eyes. Forget leukemia, _this_ was going to be the death of him.

“Not a bit,” he managed to croak out.

This time, fearing they would be seen if they chanced a dash across the grounds, they ended up in the boys’ changing room, the floor still wet from the morning’s showers.

Sirius pushed Remus against the lockers the same way he had pushed him against the tree the night before. Being pushed around, both literally and figuratively, was something Remus did not usually care for. A childhood spent cooped up and fussed over had left him bitterly defensive.

But he found he did not mind it quite so much when Sirius did it, like this.

 _You can push me against anything,_ he thought, but he knew he couldn't say it out loud without giggling again, which could just about be charming once, but after that would surely become insufferable.

To distract himself from the laughter burbling up in his chest, he tried to concentrate on the matter at hand: the boy, Sirius, whose hands were on his waist and whose mouth was currently bruising a trail down his neck. Remus put his own hands on his chest, moved his head back to give Sirius more space - and burst out laughing.

Sirius sighed, his hands stilled, and he rested his head on Remus’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Remus gasped. “Sorry - it’s not you, it’s not. It’s just - we’re in the changing rooms right now.” And then, to his horror, he let out a high-pitched giggle that wouldn’t be out of place in the first year girls’ dorms.

Sirius lifted his head up and squinted at Remus warily. “You know, this kind of thing could really hurt a man’s self-esteem.”

Remus shook his head, still smiling, and brought his fingers up to dig into Sirius’s hair, holding his head steady, slightly worried that he might run away if Remus didn’t hold on tight enough. “Not yours, though,” he said. “You know you’re the best looking person for about 50 miles.”

“What loser have you been cavorting with 50 miles away?” Sirius demanded hotly, his hands coming back to life at Remus’s sides and moving slowly up and down, dragging his jumper with them.

Remus chuckled again, but thankfully the temporary hysteria seemed to have passed for now. “You’re the only loser I’m cavorting with,” he said, and Sirius leaned forward to kiss him again.

 _Better_ , Remus thought. He could do kissing like _this_ , mouth on mouth, tongues sliding together rhythmically, each person pushing and pulling in tandem. Their hands started moving vaguely and indiscriminately across each other’s backs and waists and arms and chests, with no real purpose other than exploring, as if they were each trying to make sure the other was real. There was something simple and uncomplicated about kissing like this - it was an equal partnership, rather than one person acquiescing to the needs and whims of the other. Besides, the feeling was so intense that it pushed all of the rogue thoughts and absurdities from his mind.

Not that kissing wasn’t an absurdity in itself. He wondered who was the first person - or, he supposed, caveman - to say, actually what I really want to do before we mate is to put my mouth on your mouth and then just move my head around for a long time, does that sound good? And then who was the first caveman to say, yes, you know what, that sounds like a delightful way to spend some time before the inevitable copulation, perhaps we could also open our mouths and then pretend like we are trying to lick each other’s insides clean? And then somehow, instead of being utterly disgusted the way he was whenever Alice and Frank did this in front of people in the common room, the other cavemen said, hang on, they’re onto something there, and soon they were all at it, and it had permeated human culture and teenagers’ fantasies for millennia to come.

 _Kissing_. It was utterly mad. It was completely marvellous. And now that they had started, he didn’t think they would ever stop.

*

Remus was thinking too much. Sirius should have known that he would be like that, that he would be the one 18-year-old boy in the entire universe who couldn’t disconnect his brain from his body.

Sirius moved his lips away from Remus’s, trailing kisses along his jaw, and Remus let out another giggle. Lord, almighty. Was he nervous? Was that the problem?

“Are you nervous?” he demanded, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and leaning away to look him in the eye.

“No,” Remus said, shaking his head earnestly. Then, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Sirius kept rubbing his hands up and down Remus’s sides, not wanting to stop touching him. “What are you nervous about?”

“It’s just - I don’t know what we’re doing,” Remus sighed, still holding onto Sirius protectively.

“We’re skipping class and kissing,” Sirius explained slowly.

Remus gave him a dry look. “Thanks, Einstein. I mean, why are we kissing? Do you like me, or do you like kissing?”

Sirius stopped moving his hands and stared at him. What kind of question was that? “Both,” he said. “Obviously.”

“But you kiss girls,” Remus pointed out, although it seemed to cause him physical pain. “You always kiss girls.”

“Yeah. And now I’m kissing you.”

“But… don’t you like kissing girls?”

He shrugged. “Sure. But I also like kissing you. Do _you_ like kissing girls?”

Remus looked genuinely surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I’ve never kissed one before.”

“Well, do you like kissing boys?”

“I don’t know that either.”

Sirius’s heart lurched, and his stomach dropped to the floor. Shit.

But his horror must have shown in his face, because Remus suddenly looked panicked and drew him closer to kiss him again on the lips, one, two, three times in quick succession. “God, Sirius, no. I mean, I like kissing _you._ But you’re the only boy I’ve kissed. I don’t know if I like kissing boys in general. Just you.”

“Well, then what’s the problem?” asked Sirius, growing frustrated. Why were they talking about kissing and not just doing it? It was like being offered a giant chocolate cake, and then made to sit around discussing the theory of how best to bake it.

“I just don’t know what it _means,_ ” Remus said.

Christ alive.

“It means we like kissing each other and we’re going to keep doing it whenever we get the chance,” Sirius said, with what was surely an Olympic medal-worthy amount of patience and understanding. “If you want to,” he added quickly.

“I do,” Remus reassured him, and Sirius let out a relieved sigh, leaning forward to press his lips to his neck again.

He wished Remus would take his tie off.

“Does that make us queer?” Remus asked.

“I suppose,” Sirius said, reaching up to start untangling the infernal knot around Remus’s neck. He hadn’t really thought about it before. “Does that matter?”

“It feels… significant,” Remus said, shifting to give Sirius better access. Why did the boy always insist on tying full bloody windsor knots? Did he think he was the Queen of England? “The only queer people I’ve heard about all seem to end in tragedy. Even Dumbledore couldn’t just be left alone to run his school in peace, you know? But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Sirius frowned. Remus’s mind was moving too quickly, making leaps of not-logic that he couldn’t keep up with. He thought they’d been talking about kissing. Finally, he got the knot loose, and the tie came free. “What do you mean?”

“Well, my life was always going to end in tragedy, wasn’t it?” Remus said sadly, thumbing the back of Sirius’s head.

“What?” The tie was now draped open around his neck, which resulted in a pleasing handlebar situation that Sirius could use to pull Remus towards him. It was too much; he’d gone too long without kissing him now. He pressed their lips together softly, and Remus let out a contented little sigh.

“It’s okay,” he said, when Sirius pulled away. “When I was a kid I never thought I’d get to have real friends, let alone this. I’m one of the lucky ones, really.”

“You’re not a fucking tragedy,” Sirius insisted. “I mean it. You’re a bloody medical miracle, aren’t you? You haven’t been properly sick in years.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t come back,” Remus said.

“So you’ll fight it off again, like you did before.”

Now Remus was the one getting frustrated. “That wasn’t me.”

“Of course it was bloody you.”

“It wasn’t! It was doctors, and drugs, and radiation, and luck. Other kids on the ward - kids fighting just as hard as me, harder maybe - they didn’t make it. Is that because they weren’t trying?”

“No,” Sirius growled, hating every minute of this conversation. “But you survived. You lived. So start bloody living.”

Remus looked at him for a long time. “Could you handle it?” he asked. “If we do this, and I get sick again?”

“Are you asking if I’ll still visit you in hospital every day? Because that’s got nothing to do with whether I’m kissing you or not. Either way, I’d be insulted if you thought that I wouldn’t.”

And this seemed to be the right answer, because finally - finally! - Remus shut up and started kissing him again.

They didn’t go back to class. By the time the bell rang at lunchtime, Sirius was practically walking on clouds. They snuck out of the changing rooms, sweaty and out of breath, to find students milling around the grounds, taking advantage of the clear day to get some fresh air.

“Let’s go to Hogsmeade,” Sirius said. “We can visit Meredith, and see if Hagrid has anything to help us pull off tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Remus said. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he had a dazed expression on his face that Sirius found immensely satisfying. Fussy, articulate Remus, reduced to monosyllables by Sirius and his mouth! What a morning.

Sirius let go of his hand, and they blended into the crowds of students, before reaching the edge of the grounds, ducking out of sight and crawling through the hole in the wall.

“To Hagrid’s, then?” Remus asked, standing and brushing red brick dust from his blazer.

“Well,” said Sirius, pausing to contemplate the way the sunlight caught in Remus’s hair. “There’s no rush.”

And Remus caught his eye, smirked, and allowed himself to be pushed up against another wall.

*

“Hey!”

Lily stopped in her tracks as James ground to a halt next to her. They were halfway around the lake, holding hands as they took advantage of what could be one of the last sunny days in months - and the current lack of anyone from the Disciplinary Squad sniffing around telling them to stand at least a foot apart. It was strange how holding James's hand was utterly unimportant, even undesirable, until Umbridge and the DS told her she couldn't. Even though she knew he was not really her boyfriend, she reached for him every moment they were out of eyeshot. It was proof, she supposed, that when your freedom was restricted, you had to take even the smallest rebellions whenever and however you could, just to remember that you were still you.

“Is that Sirius and Remus?” he asked, peering at two figures on the other side of the grounds. (Talking of small rebellions.)

Lily raised her hand to her eyes to block out the sun, and squinted in the same direction. “Oh. Yes, I think so. See, I _told_ you they were probably just skipping for the day. You’re such a worrier.”

“They’re both going to get expelled,” James groaned, pushing back his hair with his free hand. Lily felt a funny urge to reach out and grab it, to hold both his palms in hers and complete the circuit.

Instead, she shrugged, and gave the hand she did have a comforting squeeze. “Maybe. I don’t know. Sirius is a Black, and expelling the kid with cancer is low even for Umbridge.”

James frowned at her. “How do you know about that?”

Crap. She hadn’t meant to say that; it was getting harder to keep track of all her lies and stories, of who knew what and why. She had become so used to James being the one person who knew the whole story, that she had forgotten that it wasn’t entirely true. “Erm - I overheard you talking about it once,” she admitted, blushing. She wasn’t proud of it. “I wouldn’t tell anyone - he obviously doesn’t want people to know, and it should probably be up to him. Are you annoyed?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Just surprised. What did you hear?”

They set off again, walking further away from the other students. “It was Severus,” she said. “He wanted me to help him, uh, spy on you.”

“Spy on us? For what?” James was laughing, like it wasn't a big deal. Like it wasn't one of the reasons she'd turned him down so many times over all those years.

“You know how it was when we were younger. You were always tormenting him. For his nose, for his hair, for not being athletic…”

“We didn't tease him for not being athletic,” James scoffed. “ _Remus_ isn't athletic. We teased Snape because he was such a creep...”

“He wasn’t.” She pulled her hand out of his roughly, unable to bear the feel of it any longer when he was acting so much like the bully she had once hated him for. “He was shy - and he was jealous. You don't know what it's like, being on a scholarship here, surrounded by some of the wealthiest kids in the country. We didn't go to fancy primary schools before we got here. Our parents didn't buy us books, or take us on holiday to Europe every summer. You all got a head start, and no matter how hard we work, we're still always playing catch up.”

James stopped walking to look at her. She turned away and looked out at the lake.

“Is that how we made you feel too?” he asked. “Remus is on a scholarship as well, you know. And Peter's hardly rich..”

“A little,” she admitted. “But my parents raised me to be proud of my roots. It didn't bother me so much. Severus… didn't have that. His home life was pretty horrible, actually.”

“He gave as good as he got, you know,” James said, but he was running his hand through his hair and shuffling his feet guiltily.

“It doesn't matter. There were four of you. Of course he lashed out. What else could he do?”

James bent down to pick up a stone from the ground, and tried to skim it across the lake. It dropped straight in with an unsatisfying _plop_.

“So you were spying on us,” he said, voice deadpan.

She nodded. “Yeah. He wanted some dirt on you to take to Dumbledore, to try and get you expelled. Something bigger than cruel names and stupid pranks.”

“I'm sorry about the names,” James said suddenly, turning to her with wide eyes and a desperate look on his face. “I really am - it wasn't funny and it wasn't fair. We were kids, but… that's no excuse.”

She didn't want to believe him. It would be so much easier to keep hating him for being immature, and insensitive, and arrogant, and rich.

But it was too late for all of that now. She had seen another side of him this week. All she could think about was how scared he looked that she wouldn't like him anymore.

Besides, if she hated him for being rich, was that any better than what Snape had always accused him of?

“It's not me you need to say sorry to,” she said. She knelt down and rummaged around for a pebble that was flat, smooth, and round. When she found one, she rubbed her thumb over its surface before skimming it perfectly across the still water. “Anyway. It was just before Christmas in third year. Remus had gone away that month - I guess he'd got sick again?”

James nodded.

“We were in the library. It was quiet, so we'd go there a lot. I liked to study. Sev - Severus - liked to… well, to avoid you lot.”

James sat down cross-legged on the bank of the lake next to her.

“We were in the corner, and it was dark, so you probably didn't see us. But the three of you came in, bickering like nobody's business. It was Sirius's idea, I think. He said something about finding out your chances. You were telling him to stop being so obsessive. You went off towards the science section.”

“The medical section,” James corrected her, as if he already knew exactly which day she was talking about.

“Yeah. We didn't know that then. Severus thought you were going to research another prank, and he wanted to catch you in the act. No one could ever prove that the others were down to you… well, you know that already.”

“We covered our tracks.”

“Yeah. He wanted to catch you planning something, and then once you actually did it, Dumbledore would _have_ to expel you. He couldn't hide behind not knowing the culprit. So we followed you.”

“We weren't researching a prank,” James said.

“I know.”

“We were researching leukemia.”

Lily closed her eyes. She felt tears of shame threatening to spill over. “I know.”

“Sirius… Sirius wanted to know the survival rate. I told him it wouldn't help. Remus isn't a statistic, he's _Remus,_ and he told us he was on some new treatment programme. The library books were out of date.”

“I know,” said Lily, wiping a tear away. “You really shouldn't have read them.”

“I _know,”_ James said, and she opened her eyes, and to her astonishment he was laughing. It was sad, frustrated laughter. But still - it was something.

“I told Severus we had to go. That we shouldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't listen at first, he thought he could use it against you somehow…”

“He thought _what?”_

“He thought it was wrong that Remus was allowed to come here in the first place, because he was away from school so often. Another kid could have used the scholarship…”

“Are you _kidding me?”_ James was furious. Lily reached out and laid her hand on top of his.

“I told him he was wrong. I said he was being ridiculous, and if Remus had won his place despite being sick, he obviously deserved it more than any of us. I convinced him not to tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” James said. “He hates being treated differently.” His voice was still strained, his jaw was set tight, but he turned his hand around and opened his palm. She closed her fingers around it gratefully.

“I'm sorry,” Lily said. “We should never have done it. I shouldn't have gone along with the spying in the first place, it wasn't fair.”

“It's okay. We were all just kids - and you kept it secret all this time. If someone had to find out, I'm glad it was you.”

“Thanks,” she said, and telling him the truth was so overwhelming, she almost began to cry. She had been keeping this secret for years, blaming herself for what she had no right to know, imagining how much worse the burden must be for Remus himself. To hear herself forgiven by one of his closest friends was an unexpected miracle. He pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder while she sniffed, and tried to compose herself.

“I wish it hadn't been Snape though,” he said, once she pulled away.

“He won't say anything,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“It's been years. And anyway, I made him promise not to. He won't break his word now.”

“Are you sure? You aren't exactly pals anymore. I can't remember the last time I saw you together.”

“Well I've been with you, haven't I?” she said, leaning forwards and poking him in the chest. He reached up and caught her hand in his.

“Seriously. What happened?”

She sighed. She hadn't meant to tell this story, not today. In the distance, the bell rang for the end of lunch, and she found that she didn't care. Dumbledore always said that some things were more important than classes, and that the true lesson of Hogwarts was understanding what those things were. She’d never been entirely sure what he meant. But she knew that right now, sitting with James, telling her story - her _real_ story - was what mattered.

“I turned him down,” she said.

James’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

She smacked him on the arm. “Don't look so pleased, I turned you down plenty of times too, remember?”

He looked suitably chastened, although she couldn't help noticing a new glint in his eye.

“It was this summer. We'd come home from school and he was at my house a lot. He doesn't live very far away, and like I said, his home life isn't great. So we used to hang out in my bedroom.”

She felt James's grip on her hand grow tighter.

“We would walk to the local library, bring books home and read them together, make fun of my sister and her new boyfriend - oh, he's awful, James, probably the worst person I've ever met, much worse than you.”

He dropped her hand in mock horror, and she laughed.

“Then one day, I was lying on my bed reading, and he sat down next to me and took it from my hands and kissed me.”

“I’ll kill him.” James had stopped kidding around. He really did look murderous. She lay a hand on his knee.

“Stop. That's not what I'm telling you for. And anyway, one kiss could be a misunderstanding, you know? It could be a… misreading of the signs. So I told him I didn't want to. But then he didn't accept it.”

“He didn't... Lily, he - if he hurt you, I swear to god -” James stood up, eyes blazing, ready to march back to the castle and start a fight.

“No.” She stood up to face him, wrapping her arms around herself nervously. “He didn't… it was nothing like that. He tried to kiss me a second time and I pushed him off, but he didn't try again. He just… got mean. He started calling me names, saying I'd led him on, saying I was a whore. It was nasty. It was really, really cruel, and it happened so _fast,_ one minute we were best friends and the next he was telling me I was a bitch for not liking him that way. So I told him to get out of my house, and he left, and I've barely spoken to him since.”

James was clenching and unclenching his fists. He looked like he was planning to punch Snape the moment he saw him.

“Don't fight him,” Lily said. “It’s not worth the trouble. I just want to forget it ever happened, that we were ever friends. I feel dirty when I think about it now. I want it over.”

And James took a deep breath, and unclenched his fists one more time, and said, “Okay.”

And that's when it hit her.

 _James._ James had grown up when Severus hadn't. James had learned to listen to what she wanted, and then do it. James didn't try to make her decisions for her, or tell her who she should be friends with, or get angry when she told him no.

James challenged her, sure. He teased her and goaded her and questioned her arguments in class for the sheer joy of it. But he had never once lied to her, or manipulated her. And ever since Umbridge arrived, he had barely left her side.

And she hadn't wanted him to.

“James,” she said, and he looked deep into her eyes, and took a step closer.

“Yes?”

“I don't want to lie anymore,” she said.

And his face fell.

*

Shit. This was it. He had known it was coming eventually, of course, but he hadn't thought it would be so soon. He thought he would have more time with her. He thought he might be able to change her mind.

He had to stop this. He had to buy himself more time - it couldn't end like this.

He took a step back. “No,” he said. “We have to.”

“What?” She frowned. His heart ached.

“We have to keep up the story. Just for a few more days, until bonfire night. We can’t give people a reason to start doubting us now, while we’re still getting the plan together.”

“But -” she began.

“We’re in too deep, Lil!” he blustered, throwing his hands in the air and turning away from her. Looking at her hurt face was making it worse, making him panic more. “We can’t jeopardise everything now! It’s not just about us - it’s about - it’s about the whole school. They’re depending on us.”

“Are they really depending on us to lie to them? To ourselves?” she asked.

“Yes!” he declared, feeling the panic rising further. “It’s all part of the plan.”

“Okay.” She sounded small, and sad, but determined.

He felt like a piece of shit. Worse. Like a piece of shit that all the other shits accused of giving them a bad name.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning back to look at her. “It’s only for a few more days. If we pull off Saturday, we can get things back to normal - or as normal as it ever was around here. And if we don’t…”

“It won’t matter anyway,” she finished. “Because we’ll all be expelled.”

He swallowed, and nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“James,” said Lily, taking another step towards him and reaching out for his hand. He let out a sigh of relief, and reached out towards her. “Are you sure -” she began.

“Potter! Evans!” The high-pitched voice, all too familiar, carried across the lake towards them. “Let go of each other and get over here this instant!”

They turned, releasing their hands, and saw Umbridge striding towards them triumphantly.

“Seriously?” James groaned. “Don't you have an actual job to do?”

“My job is to keep this school disciplined, Mr Potter. And I cannot do that job when the students are treating their lessons as optional just because the sun is shining and they feel like - like canoodling!”

“Our lessons _are_ optional,” James growled, surprising himself by sounding almost exactly like Sirius.

“Not. Any. More!” she declared with a strained smile, as she finally reached them.

He sighed.

“Oh, I’ve been hoping to catch you two,” she said. “Ever since you called that meddling journalist. Now - detention, both of you. For the rest of the week.”

“For skipping _one class?”_ asked Lily, horrified. And that was what James loved about her - that despite all the evidence, she still believed in a just system, and assumed everybody else did too.

“For constantly and deliberately undermining my authority, and flaunting your public displays of affection despite my express instructions,” she said. “Now, allow me to escort you to your classroom - or you’ll start your detentions right this minute, and I’m sure Mr Black has warned you all about that.”

She placed a hand on his arm, gripping it too tightly, and began guiding them back towards the school. James felt his stomach roil at her touch, he couldn’t bear her short, manicured fingers digging into him - not even through layers of coat and jumper. He yanked his arm out of her grip roughly.

“Now, now, Potter,” she said. “That temper will get you into real trouble one day.”

He looked over at Lily on her other side. She looked utterly miserable, and right that moment, there was nothing he could think of to do about it.

“I can only hope so,” he said. And Lily smiled.

*

Evans and Potter! Finally, after a week of them playing their silly games, jumping through loopholes and dodging all of her traps, Umbridge had caught them breaking the rules. Right there, in broad daylight! Seduced by the shining sun, as the stupidest children and animals so often are.

This was the pair she wanted to punish most. Forget the rotten reporter - ever since Potter had stood up on her first day, and commanded the silence of the entire school with a few words, then looked at her like he was doing a favour. Clever, respectable, golden boy Potter, who thought he had more power than the adults around him. And Evans, a clear troublemaker and his obvious weakness. The foolish way he looked at her made her stomach turn. Kidding themselves that they were in love; that they were special.

She had known from the beginning that if she could break these two, she could break the entire school.

If only she had been able to find their delinquent friends, she could have completed the set.

But never mind. They would show up tonight for detention too, if they knew what was good for them. And she wasn’t letting them slip away to the matron this time; she would not be foolish enough to take a “message” from any of them again; if the teachers truly needed her, they would seek her out themselves. She would stay and watch the students all night, if she had to. And anyone who complained - any snivelling, whining, pathetic excuse she heard - would be punished.

She had the cane, after all. It had been a mistake to use it on Black when he was alone. It only worked when the others were watching, when the humiliation was worse than pain.

Oh, how she hoped it would be Potter this time.

When she reached the Entrance Hall after dinner, it was already full of students waiting for detention. There must have been almost 70 now, each night. Perfect - she wanted an audience. She wanted as many people to see Potter suffer as she could.

She scanned around for Black and Lupin, but they were nowhere to be seen. A pity. Still, there was more than enough here, and if they did not show up at all, well. Then that would be a third strike, wouldn’t it?

She walked through the crowds of waiting students, enjoying the way they silently parted for her as she made her way to the basement door. _Fear_. It was the greatest weapon. Who would have thought these were the same rowdy students she had met just a week ago? It had almost been too easy.

She stood at the door, and opened it, waiting for them to file past her one by one. Potter and Evans were at the back, arms crossed, watching.

“Well?” she said, in her most patient voice. “We haven’t got all day.”

One of the smallest students - Creevey, the bed wetter who had been here since that first night - stepped forwards. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Actually, professor, I’m afraid I can’t attend detention tonight,” he said, with only a slight tremor in his voice. “I’m not well, you see. Madam Pomfrey signed this. She says it’s my lungs.”

Umbridge snatched the note from his hand.

 _Dear Professor Umbridge,_  
  
_Please excuse Mr Kevin Creevey from detention today. He has developed a nasty cough, I suspect from too much time spent in damp, cold conditions. For his health, I recommend that he spend his next few evenings recuperating in bed, or perhaps by the common room fire with tea and crumpets._  
  
_If you would like to discuss further, please feel free to come and visit me in the hospital wing._  
  
_Best,_

 _Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts School nurse_  
  
"Fine," she said. "Go on, then. The rest of you - inside."  
  
Creevey scuttled away. The next child stepped forwards. Her long black hair was braided in insipid plaits. She held out her hands. Another note.

 _Dear Professor Umbridge,_  
  
_Please excuse Miss Tina Zabini from detention today. I detected an unfortunately high blood pressure, I suspect due to the stress of her ordeal over some black kohl pencils found by yourself in her dormitory. She assures me they were never intended to be used as makeup on her eyes, but as part of a new artistic project. I'm sure, given the misunderstanding, they will be returned to her in due course and she will be back to normal. For the time being, I prescribe bed rest, and perhaps a nice hot chocolate from the kitchens._  
  
_Please do come and see me to discuss at your earliest convenience._  
  
_Best,_

 _Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts School nurse_  
  
The next one was the same.  
  
_Dear Professor Umbridge,_  
  
_Please excuse Miss Niamh Finnigan from this evening's detention. She tells me she has spent the last three nights in crippling insomnia, riddled with guilt over her supposedly speaking out of turn towards yourself. As she has clearly suffered enough, let's consider the matter settled._  
  
_Best,_

 _Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts School nurse_  
  
_PS. I'll put the kettle on, shall I?_  
  
"Does anyone here not have a note from the school nurse?" she hissed.  
  
Seventy silent faces stared back at her in silence.  
  
In the corner, Potter raised his hand.  
  
“Well then, get inside and stop wasting my time.”  
  
“Actually, professor, I was just going to say... I don't have a note from Madam Pomfrey. But my arm doesn't half hurt from where you grabbed it earlier... How do you feel, Lil?”  
  
And Evans looked her right in the eyes, raised her first to her nasty, common mouth, and coughed.


	9. Thursday, 3rd November, 1977

Sirius loved that hour between midnight and 1am. _The witching hour._ When he could still be wide awake, with a whole night of exciting possibilities ahead of him - but the rest of the world was asleep.

Remus, bless him, was less fond of it.

“How much longer are we going to have to wait?” he asked, yawning. They were sitting against the wall on the west side of the castle, out of sight of any windows or beady-eyed headteachers. Their legs were stretched out in front of them, and Remus’s head was resting pleasingly on Sirius’s shoulder.

“Let me check,” Sirius said, although unfortunately that meant moving, and his shoulder felt strangely light when Remus’s weight was lifted.

He lay down on the grass, and stuck his head through the small window at the bottom of the wall. It was hard to see clearly - but he reckoned there was another half hour to go at least.

“If you get your giant head stuck in that window, I’m not helping,” Remus informed him.

Sirius wriggled back out with, frankly, a tremendous amount of grace and dignity, only once bumping his head against the window frame and cursing.

“You are a cruel man, Remus Lupin,” he said when he was upright again. “But you must put up with me at least 30 minutes more if you want to see this through.”

“Intolerable,” said Remus, and rested his head back on Sirius’s shoulder. Feeling rather brave, Sirius shifted his weight so that his arm could reach around Remus and draw him closer.

Their eyes followed the long hose, which stretched from the little window, across the grounds and towards the lake out of sight, where Hagrid was waiting.

They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the quiet roar behind them. It was strange how much the life of a prankster involved long periods of sitting and doing nothing, how many hours were spent on tedious admin and organisation. To be good at it, you couldn’t just have a fun idea, do some sneaking around, and then delight in the ensuing chaos. You had to work at it. You had to be diligent.

Funnily enough, it was Remus who had taught him that. In their early days, he and James would have been happy just blowing up anything that moved. He remembered the utter devastation he’d felt when, after laying out their latest pyrotechnics scheme, Remus turned to them and sighed, “Is that all?”

“What do you mean, is that all?” James had scoffed.

“It’s just… a bit predictable, isn’t it?” Remus replied.

That’s when they’d come up with the plastic-spiders-in-the-soup gag. It had been a nightmare to organise the delivery of 200 plus fake tarantulas, and even more irritating to find a way to sneak them into each student’s bowl before dinner. But the screams and laughter at the end had made it all worth it.

And the little smile on Remus’s face, the one he’d tried so hard to suppress, had been even better.

Remus had a lovely smile. Sirius had always thought that. It was sort of lopsided and it popped a little dimple in his cheek. And it was quiet - it was a smile that hid as much as it revealed, and made you want to produce another one, again and again, until you understood.

Looking back, Sirius thought, maybe that was the moment he’d first fallen for him.

“Remember the spiders?” he said, and he felt Remus chuckle.

“My finest moment. Or possibly my downfall. I haven’t decided yet.”

And it was so close to what Sirius had been thinking, all he could do was turn his head, nudge Remus up to face him, and press their lips together.

It was softer than all of their kisses so far, which had been fuelled by a kind of manic urgency. Sirius almost preferred it for that. It sent a warm feeling all the way through his body, until even his fingertips were tingling.

“Do you think the others know?” Remus asked, when they broke away.

“Know what?” asked Sirius.

“About you and me. And, uh, that.”

Sirius felt the flush of pleasure, now becoming familiar, that he always got when he rendered Remus inarticulate.

“I don’t think so,” he decided eventually. “I mean, we’ve barely seen them since, have we? And James was so excited about all those kids tonight, he wasn’t paying any attention to us.”

“It _does_ sound incredible,” Remus said, and Sirius agreed. Knowing that the rest of the school was starting to rebel against Umbridge made him feel proud to be a Hogwarts student again. It made their own efforts feel like they were part of something bigger. “Do you think we should tell them?”

“The kids?” Sirius yelped. “Do they need to know?”

“No. James and Pete. It’s sort of… I mean… should we tell them?”

“I dunno,” Sirius said. He tried to imagine how James might react, but he couldn’t, which was odd. James had never had a problem with Dumbledore being queer, but then they’d never actually _seen_ Dumbledore with his tongue in another bloke’s mouth. Maybe when it was his own mates, perhaps even his own dorm room, he might see it differently.

Sirius tried to picture how _he_ would react if the shoe was on the other foot. If James and Remus were the ones bashfully admitting that they’d been holding hands and pushing each other against trees in secret.

His chest tightened. He wanted to punch James in the throat. But that wasn’t about him being queer, was it? It was about him being queer with Remus. What if it was James and Pete, then?

The idea was so disturbing that he burst out laughing.

“What?” Remus hissed. “Keep it down!”

“Sorry. It’s just… it’s a good job we’re so good looking, isn’t it?”

Remus rolled his eyes. It was too dark to see it properly, but Sirius knew it was happening. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Trust me, it’ll help. But I dunno, Remus. Maybe we should keep it quiet for a bit. Just until… we’re sure, you know?”

Remus lifted his head from Sirius’s shoulder. “Right. Yeah. Until we’re sure.”

Sirius nodded.

“Is it done yet?” asked Remus. He sounded a little sharp, cold for reasons that Sirius couldn’t quite grasp. But maybe he was just cold - it _was_ November, after all.

Sirius got back down on the ground, and peered through the window again. “Yeah,” he said. “Looks good.”

They stood and gathered their things, the assorted cans and tools clinking in the dark, before they headed off towards the lake to find Hagrid.

*

James woke up with a crushing feeling of guilt in his stomach.

But he didn't have time to work out what it was for. So he pushed it as far away as he could and gathered his teammates for their secret 5am rugby practice, Sirius grumbling that he was a slave driver and a fascist.

“It's not my fault you and Remus snuck out at midnight,” James hissed, still irritable that they had woken him up in the process, not to mention that they’d risked expulsion again. _And_ not invited him along. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sirius said. James decided to let it drop, mostly because the feeling that he'd made a horrible mistake was still gnawing at his gut, and it was taking all of his concentration to keep it at bay.

Peter was tired, but more amicable, and the rest of the team seemed almost excited to be up and breaking the rules. News of the students' rebellion against detention, and Pomfrey's help, had spread through the common room like wildfire in the precious hours before curfew the night before. Students who had looked pale and downtrodden a few days ago were now giving him conspiratorial nods, like the whole thing had been his idea.

Was that what he was feeling guilty about? Being painted as the leader of an uprising he had nothing to do with?

“We're not actually breaking any rules,” he reminded them as they made their way towards the entrance hall, and the rugby pitch beyond. “Umbridge sends us to bed at 8pm, but she never said what time we had to wake up.”

“She did suspend the rugby team,” Peter pointed out unhelpfully. Sirius snickered.

“This isn't the rugby team,” James argued, even though it basically was. “Where's Carrow, if that’s true? What's Frank doing here?”

“Trust me, boss, I'm asking myself the same question,” Frank muttered.

That's when they walked into the entrance hall and saw it.

Across the huge, ancient wooden front door, someone had scrawled “GO HOME DOLORES” in bright pink spray paint.

At the back of room were the words “BOLLOCKS TO NEW RULES” in acid yellow.

And on the door to the Great Hall: “RICE PUDDING AND JAM” in bright green.

“Sirius…” James said, slowly. “Did you know about this?”

“Me?” Sirius blinked at him, the picture of innocence, and absolutely, definitely guilty.

“You. You and Remus were out all night.”

“I suppose we were. Are you going to tell my brother?”

James tugged at his hair and sighed. “Let’s go - we'll start with a lap around the pitch,” he ordered, ignoring the groans behind him as he marched outside.

But James loved running. It was always one of his favourite parts of practice. As he set off and felt the wind in his hair, and his muscles began to warm up, he could finally start to feel his head clear.

Until. “What's up with you?”

Sirius had caught up with him, looking irritatingly like he was out for a light jog. James was fast, but when he ran he looked like a giraffe that had just learned to walk, skinny arms and legs everywhere. Sirius was like a gazelle that had been cast in a movie to play the most handsome, good-at-running gazelle on the Savannah.

“I'm fine. What's up with you?”

“I'm fine too.”

“Great.”

James kept running, but the twisting guilty feeling was back. Was it Sirius? Things hadn't been right between them for a week now. He couldn't remember the last time they had let a fight fester for that long. But he didn't even know what they were fighting about!

“Did you do it?” he asked, trying not to sound too judgemental. (Okay, maybe he had _some_ idea what they were fighting about.)

“I'm not sure you want to know,” Sirius said.

“So you did. Did you do anything else?”

Sirius kept running. James took that as a yes.

“If you did, I'll find out later anyway.”

“Probably.”

“And Remus helped you?”

“He wanted to,” Sirius said defensively. “He's not made of glass, you know. You don't have to protect him all the time.”

“I know,” James said, surprised. He glanced at Sirius, and saw his face had darkened with frustration.

Is that how Sirius saw him these days? A fussy mother hen who couldn't be trusted with information? It made him uneasy.

“I'm glad you did it,” James told him, realising for the first time that it was true. “I know I wasn't on board with breaking the rules, but Lily and I couldn't risk it. We had to try - we're still trying - to beat Umbridge at her own game. We want to take her down for real. And we're going to need help from parents, and the school board, and journalists at the bloody _Times_. They can't see us as delinquent kids, we have to look the part. But... you’re doing something important too. It's clearly driving her crazy, and it's good for people to see you resisting. They wouldn't have pulled that Pomfrey trick if you hadn't inspired them. I'm sorry if I've been such a prick about it. You know if things were different, I’d be right there with you.”

They finished their lap, and stopped running while they waited for the others to catch up. “You _have_ been a prick,” Sirius said, glaring at James and punching him on the shoulder. But then he grinned. “Still, what's new?”

And James punched him back, and they laughed, and finally things felt like they were getting back to normal, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen.

“All right!” James called, as Peter caught up with them, red-faced and panting in last place. “Everybody line up for passing drills!”

It was a good practice. The team was in decent shape, and they were working well together. The only problem was the props. Frank was giving it his best shot, but he was new to it all. Peter, meanwhile, looked utterly lost without Carrow calling the shots and taking the hardest hits.

Luckily, the old connection James had with Sirius was back - he always knew where the other boy was, and could direct him around the pitch with a nod of his head. Often he didn't have to; Sirius was already where he needed him to be. It was like a cloud between them had lifted.

But when they were showering, the guilty feeling was back. It hadn't been about Sirius after all - or at least, not completely.

“Mate,” he said. “I feel like I'm forgetting something. Like I've made this huge mistake, and I don't know what it is.”

“Becoming Evans's whipping boy?” Sirius suggested lightly.

James stopped scrubbing at his hair, and turned to stare at him. (Not that he could see much without his glasses.)

“What? Lighten up, I was kidding.”

“No. You're right. It's Evans.”

And it was. Not in the way Sirius had meant. James was quite happy to be her whipping boy. Letting her boss him around was far more satisfying than antagonising her had once been. In fact, if he spent the rest of his life doing exactly what Lily Evans told him to do, he'd still die happy. As long as he'd spent it with her.

And that was the problem. She'd told him what to do. She'd told him that she couldn't keep up the lies any more. And he'd told her they had to do the opposite.

Shit.

“What's going on with you two, anyway?” Sirius asked. “You've never told me. One minute she hated you, the next you're in lovey dovey land. You didn't even tell us she'd changed her mind.”

James wondered whether this, not a stupid argument over pranks, had been bothering Sirius all along. “I can't tell you yet,” he said, and Sirius glowered again, confirming his suspicions. “But I will. I'll tell you everything, I swear. I just... Have to talk to her first.”

“Why? Have you been a prat to her too?”

“Yeah.”

“What a shocker.”

James whipped a wet flannel at him, but he just dodged it - of course - and laughed harder.

He knew what he had to do. But when he walked into the Great Hall - which was buzzing with excited chatter, thanks to the grafitti - he couldn’t do it. He was too cowardly. He didn’t _want_ them to drop the pretence now - not when it meant he got to have breakfast with her every morning, and have her lean forward and exclaim how good graffiti was for _morale_ , and then pass the cup of tea she had made for him.

He took it gratefully, and took a sip. She had added two sugars, just the way he liked, even though she loved to make fun of him for rotting his teeth.

“Why do you look someone’s died?” she asked him, when he still hadn’t said a word. And then, “Oh god, no one’s died, have they?”

“No,” he said, and took another sip of sweet tea. “Well, someone probably has, somewhere, that’s inevitable isn’t it? It’s coming for us all in the end, so they say. But no one I know. And isn’t that why we should seize every day like our last? Shouldn’t we all enjoy every minute we have on this blessed earth? When again will we be young, and free, and together?”

“Lunchtime, probably,” Lily said, before turning to Sirius. “Is he high?”

“Don’t think so,” he replied, shrugging. “But he’s been like this all morning.”

“No I haven’t,” James snapped. “Eat your porridge.”

Peter tittered.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked him, lowering her voice so that he had to lean forwards to hear her above the din.

“I have to talk to you. It’s about yesterday.”

“Good,” said Lily. “Because I think -”

“Hem hem!”

Lily sighed. “Oh, for pity’s sake.”

The room quietened.

“Good morning, students,” Umbridge began, her beady little eyes scanning across the room, lingering too long on James and his friends. Feeling defiant, he reached out and took Lily’s hand, just to spite her. She narrowed her eyes at him until they almost disappeared all together - and then she sniffed and looked away.

He decided to consider it a win.

“I am sure by now you have all seen the filth scrawled across the entrance hall. I would like you to know that I will not be intimidated by such petty behaviour, and when I find the culprit, they will be expelled immediately. We will be searching your dormitories for incriminating items throughout the day.”

James glanced at Sirius, who winked back. Of course he and Remus wouldn't be stupid enough to keep the evidence in their dorm - it was probably long gone.

They would probably have a few less stink bombs by the end of the day, though.

“Some of you may also be aware that last night’s detention was disrupted by a mysterious bout of unexplained illnesses. I’m sure you were all most disappointed not to be able to serve your time - after all, there is no integrity in escaping fair punishment for your crimes. It does a disservice to you if your slate is not wiped clean. And it does a disservice to the entire school community.”

“Blimey, get on with it,” Sirius muttered.

Remus shushed him - he was watching Umbridge intently.

“You may also be aware that our school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, was diagnosing many of the illnesses in question. However, I am afraid that she was mistaken in this act. Having discussed the matter at length, and having reviewed some of her files, it became clear that her position at this school was no longer tenable. She has departed the premises.”

Remus sucked in his breath, making a hissing sound that was almost like a cat. Sirius, and several other students, began shouting and protesting. Even the other teachers, ashen face, were openly shaking their heads and muttering to each other.

James remained still, his mouth open. She’d fired her. She’d actually done it. Dumbledore was one thing, there were parents and board members involved - but Pomfrey had actually lost her job, just for writing a few sick notes.

“It is a crime to forge a medical document,” Umbridge said, raising her voice above the noise. “And I will not have a criminal in this school, putting your lives in danger.”

“How is it safer not to have a nurse around?” Sirius called out. “What if someone gets really sick? What if -” he cut himself off, glancing at Remus, who was still staring steadfastly at Umbridge. James saw his jaw tighten. “What if there’s an emergency?” Sirius finished, a little weakly.

“We will of course begin looking for a replacement immediately,” Umbridge said. “In the meantime, students who missed last night’s detention will be required to attend this evening - no exceptions.”

And with that, she sat down.

The Great Hall erupted in protests once more.

“What are we going to do?” asked Kevin Creevey, who was sitting a few seats down. James turned to look at him, and was surprised to see that he was the one being addressed. “Do we go?”

“I don’t know,” James said, feeling overwhelmed. She was _fired_. Deep down, he had wondered whether Umbridge had been bluffing all along, whether she had the balls to really end someone’s time at Hogwarts just for defying her. It turned out she did.

He was surprised again when Sirius answered the question - and at the advice he gave. “Go to detention,” he told Creevey. “Tell all your mates to go too - anyone who helped with the sick note stunt you pulled.”

“But it’s horrible down there - and she hit Niamh Finnigan with a cane yesterday, right in the middle of maths. We can’t give up now.”

James winced. Niamh was just 12 years old. She always looked terrified of everything and everyone around her. Things were getting worse.

But what made him feel sick to his stomach only made Sirius more determined. “Don’t worry. You’re not giving up. And trust me - you don’t want to miss the show.”

At this, Creevey smiled, and nodded, and turned to begin whispering to the girl next to him.

“The graffiti was you,” Lily said, looking more impressed than angry. “What else have you done? What show?”

“Patience, my dearest, patience,” he said, folding his arms and looking all too pleased with himself.

“Oi,” said James. “Watch it with the dearest.”

Sirius ignored him. “Lilypad has raised an excellent point, if a few hours too early. We need to start being honest with each other.” He unfolded his arms and waved his hands around, gesturing between himself, Lily and James. “I’ve had it with all the lies and the secrets. I want to know the whole plan.”

The guilt twisted in James’s stomach again.

“You won’t tell us your plan either,” Lily argued.

“That’s just so you can deny knowing about it later. You and James can’t break the rules, he explained it all to me in a very heartfelt and boring apology this morning.”

“It was not boring!”

Sirius waved his hand at him like he was swatting a fly. “You’re forgiven, Jamsie, stop banging on about it. The point is, you two are the respectable faces of this operation, while Remus and I do all the dirty work. I get it now. But just because you don’t know my plan doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know yours. Yours is the endgame. Right? So you should fill us in, and we can help.”

James looked at Lily, who looked back at him. He was sick of the lies too. He wanted his best friend back in the inner circle, needed the rebel who fought a little mean and always knew exactly where James needed him.

Lily nodded.

“Okay,” James said. “Meet us in the common room at lunchtime. We’ll tell you everything.”

“What about me?” Peter asked, petulantly. “Where do I fit in all of this?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Pete,” Sirius said, slapping him on the back. “You’ll have your place. Start by bringing the snacks.”

Peter punched him, but agreed.

And then the bell rang, and James had missed his chance to talk to Lily. They couldn’t risk skipping class again after yesterday, so they walked to McGonagall’s room in awkward silence. As the passed through the entrance hall, they saw Filch scrubbing at the word “BOLLOCKS” with soapy water and a sponge. It wasn’t making much difference.

Lunchtime, true to his word, was spent filling in the others on the plan for bonfire night on Saturday. In truth, it was about time to let them in anyway - the plan was still full of holes and missing parts. James wasn’t good at this by himself. It was only when Sirius started suggesting insane but oddly brilliant curveballs, and Remus started working on the logistics, that it all started to make sense. Even Peter, as much as they teased him, had an uncanny knack for spotting potential pitfalls that they had missed.

“We can do this,” he said, as the bell rang and they began to move to their next classes. “We really can.”

“Obviously,” Sirius said.

“You should have asked us sooner,” Remus added, reaching out to pat him on the arm. James felt another wave of guilt, but Remus gave him a reassuring smile.

When he looked at Lily, she was beaming.

“It's brilliant,” she said. “Is this how it feels every time? No wonder you kept pranking - it's such a rush!”

And James had never loved her more, and he knew he had to break up with her.

In the end, he did it at dinner.

It wasn't the best timing, sure, but who knew what hell would break loose at detention?

And anyway, Sirius was pissing him off.

“Now that we're all friends again, when are you going to tell us how you got together?” he asked for the 800th time that evening.

“I said it's none of your business,” James reminded him.

Lily was picking at her food, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

“Right, but why is it so secret? Is it embarrassing? Did you make Peter ask her out for you?”

“It's not embarrassing, it's just not very important right now.”

“But I'm bored,” complained Sirius. “And you wasted six years of my young life talking about how great Evans is. Don't I deserve a more satisfying ending?”

“No.”

He turned to Lily. “Evans, will you tell me what happened? Did he make a tit out of himself somehow? Is it because you're ashamed that you finally gave in?”

“Shove off, Black.”

“For god's sake!” James hissed. “It's not real, okay? It's a secret because the whole thing’s fake. We thought it would make a better story for the journalist.”

Lily dropped her cutlery on to her plate and put her head in her hands.

“Oh,” Remus said, quietly. “That explains a lot.”

Sirius was staring at James like he'd just announced he was joining the army. “What the hell would you do that for?”

“It was a good idea at the time,” James muttered.

“Was it really?” he asked sceptically. Then he seemed to remember something. “Hang on - you kissed! At the party!”

“Um. Yeah. That was to get you to shut up. Look - that's it, okay? That's the big secret. Can you drop it now?”

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue more. But then Remus kicked him under the table, and he nodded.

“Lily,” James said, reaching his hand out to grasp hers. “I'm sorry about yesterday. You were right - we shouldn't keep lying to people. I was an idiot not to listen to you.”

She looked up at him, and bit her lip.

He was, possibly, the worst person to have ever walked the earth.

“I understand if you want to break it off,” he told her. “We'll figure out the rest. But I should never have forced you into it. I know people have tried to do that to you before, and it makes me sick to think I might be like them.”

And then, inexplicably, she started to laugh.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “What's happening now?”

“Honestly, you two are better than _Corrie_ ,” Sirius observed. James ignored him, fairly sure that Sirius had never watched _Coronation Street_ in his life.

“I didn't want us to break up, you idiot,” Lily said. “I wanted it to be real.”

Perhaps James was hallucinating. “Pardon?”

“I've been trying to explain that, but you won't let me. Well, you and Umbridge, she has impeccable timing.”

“But you don't like me,” he argued. “You've always said no.”

“Yes, well, we've all been through a lot, haven't we? Trauma changes people.”

“Pretending to go out with me was a trauma?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his friends wetting themselves with silent laughter.

“No,” she said, and she seemed to be laughing with them. Why was he the only one who didn't get the joke?

The bell rang, and students began standing and shuffling out of the hall. Lily stood up with them, and stepped closer to James. She held out her hands, and he took them without thinking, letting her pull him up.

“James,” she said softly, as students jostled past them. “I said no before. But I'm saying yes now. No secrets, no pretending. Just you and me. What do you say?”

And just like that, he was walking on Mars. He was a nuclear explosion. He was a kid who had grown up on classical and jazz, hearing rock music for the first time and feeling his whole world change.

“I'm in.”

She grinned at him, and then tugged him down to kiss him right on the lips. He was flying.

Unfortunately, other people were still watching.

*

Lily should have known he'd got the wrong end of the stick. It was such a James thing to do - spend years doggedly asking her to go out with him, only to completely misunderstand when she said yes, and then nobly try to break things off. It was arrogant and selfless all at once. Irritating and innocent. Brave and utterly stupid.

She heard their friends start clapping and jeering in equal measure, and found she didn't care. She put her arms around his waist and pulled him closer, and he placed one hand on either side of her head, like he was trying to anchor himself in place.

It was mad that she enjoyed kissing him this much. Bonkers that she had been fantasising about it all day, during every dull lesson, throughout their long briefing in the common room, even when his ears had gone pink with frustration as Sirius teased him. Maybe even  _ especially _ then.

It defied all reason. What was so special about him, really? All the things that had annoyed her once were still true. He was still posh and spoiled and full of himself. He still had those silly glasses and gangly limbs and ridiculous hair. He still liked rugby.

But he was other things too, things she hadn't let herself see before. Things like kind and smart and funny and brave and honest. She knew, with her whole heart, that she could trust him.

In fact, her heart felt like it had grown bigger in the last week, physically bigger, expanding in her chest like it was trying to wrap itself around his. And in that one kiss, she started to see a whole life play out in front of her: graduating from a red brick university by his side, getting married on his parents’ farm in spring, watching their red-haired bespectacled kids learn to ride their bikes, growing old together on a park bench. It was racing by before she could stop it, before she could tell herself to calm down and get real.

But why should she? Growing old with James Potter didn't seem impossible any more. In fact, it felt likely. Exciting, even.

“ _ What is going on here?” _

She pulled away and turned around. And of course, there was Umbridge, looking furious.

“Forgive me, Mr Potter, Miss Evans.” Her voice seemed strained with the effort of not shouting at them. “Have I not made the school's policy on romantic relationships abundantly clear? Did it escape your minds that while your grades give you some reprieve, these lewd displays of debauchery are _not tolerated?”_

“Sorry, professor,” said James, running a hand through his hair and grinning at her stupidly, like all his dreams had just come true.

“I’m afraid sorry won't cut it, Potter. You are supposed to be setting examples to your fellow students. I won't have you…  _ cavorting  _ in the corridors.”

Sirius - who had apparently stuck around for the show - started laughing.

“We’re not in the corridors, professor,” pointed out Peter.

Lily looked around and - oh hell - realised the entire school had stopped what they were doing, and were staring at the scene unfolding. She caught Severus's eye, at the Slytherin table, and he sneered at her in disgust. She clenched her fists.

“ _ I'm _ not sorry,” she declared suddenly, and she felt James jump in surprise. “I'm 18 for goodness sake, and I'm in love with a boy, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with kissing him. It's normal! We're happy! It's not like we were fucking right on the dinner table.”

Then three things happened at once. James started choking on his own spit, apparently so shocked by this statement that he couldn't keep his saliva in check. Sirius found it so funny that he had to grip his waist and bend over double, howling with laughter that bordered on hysterical.

And Umbridge finally snapped.

“Get downstairs, you filthy girl,” she hissed. “I will not be spoken to like that in my own school. Follow me. In fact -” she raised her voice to address all of the gathered students “- you can all follow me.”

She grabbed Lily's forearm and started pulling her along, out of the great hall and towards the entrance hall, digging in her sharp nails and twisting.

“Ow!” Lily cried out, before she could stop herself. “That hurts!”

“I don't care! I have had it with you undermining me at every turn you sneaky, dirty girl. You must learn to show some respect. You should be grateful for all of the opportunities you've been given at this school, instead of throwing them back in its face. You didn't have to come here, you know. You could have been left to rot in whatever godforsaken place you came from, but you were given a chance to be better. Yet you insist on corrupting everybody else with your horrible ideas. Well - enough!”

They had reached the entrance hall, the words Sirius had written faded but still clearly visible on the walls. Umbridge dragged her through the usual detention crowd gathered in front of the door to the basement. Kevin Creevey was standing at the front, watching them with round eyes, his mouth open in surprise.

“Stay there!” Umbridge commanded.

Lily wrenched her arm out from her grip, and turned to look over her shoulder. The rest of the school had followed as instructed, but she only cared about one person.

When she found James, he was striding towards her, hand outstretched, ready to pull her away from Umbridge's immediate line of fire.  Lily shook her head once. She wanted to know what was about to happen, didn't want her boyfriend coming to her rescue. He stopped.

Then he nodded. And she knew it meant,  _ I trust you, _ but also,  _ I've got your back, _ and a little bit,  _ it's going to be okay. _

It was exactly what she needed. 

“I'm not going down there,” she told Umbridge, who had opened the door to the basement.

“Of course not,” simpered Umbridge, a truly terrifying smile in place. “We can't all fit down there. I'm going to get my cane - and you will be punished up here, in front of all your friends, so they can see what happens to troublemakers.”

“Professor Umbridge, a word of warning,” Sirius began. He was standing just behind James.

“Be quiet, Black!”

He closed his mouth and shrugged.

Umbridge stepped through the door.

And then there was a splash, and a scream, and she disappeared.

“Oh my god,” said Lily.

“I tried to warn her,” said Sirius.

Lily stepped closer to the door and peered in, just as Umbridge's head bobbed back above the surface, spitting out mouthfuls of water.

Lily leaned forward to flick on the light switch.

The entire basement was flooded, the water stopping just one step below the doorway, so that nothing had leaked out into the entrance hall.

And it wasn't just any water - it was a muddy brown, swimming with leaves, and it smelled just like the lake. In fact, she realised, it  _ was _ the lake. Transported indoors.

A rubber duck floated past Umbridge, just as she found her footing on the stairs she had tripped over underwater. She stood, clothes and hair dripping wet, slimy bits of algae clinging to her expensive suit jacket.

Lily thought that this was the moment she lose control. That she would start screaming at them, or even attacking them, and they would have to find a way to restrain her.

Instead, a strange, icy calm seemed to fall over her. She stepped out of the basement without a word, and then surveyed the gathered students.

Some of the little ones were laughing, but they shut up the moment she laid eyes on them. Sirius was smirking. Everyone else was in shock. For a moment, the air crackled as they all held their breath, waiting to see what she would do next.

“Evans. Potter. Black. Lupin,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at them each in turn. “Come with me please.”

She made her way through the crowds, and the students parted silently. Lily followed, taking James’s hand defiantly as she went.

The students smiled supportively, some of them reaching out to pat them on the back, or else just mouthing “good luck”. Sirius, who was walking next to Remus in front of them, looked over his shoulder and grimaced. James shrugged at him.

Lily knew she should feel angry at Sirius - after all, she was about to be punished for something that he had done - but instead she found that she was just numb. Whatever happened next felt out of her hands. The sense of inevitably was so overwhelming, that it was almost like she was watching herself from a distance.

They reached Umbridge’s office.

“Sit down,” she told them, calmly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to clean up first?” asked Sirius with false politeness.

“Sit. Down.”

They sat.

“Which of you is responsible for this?” she asked, a droplet of water running down her forehead. She remained perfectly still.

They were silent. Lily certainly wasn’t going to turn Sirius in; it was so deeply obvious that it was him, tattling would be a sign of fear or weakness.

James crossed his arms across his chest. Remus had his hands folded neatly in his lap. Sirius was beaming at Umbridge like he was about to win a prize.

“If you don’t tell me, the consequences will be worse for all of you,” she said.

They stayed quiet.

“Do you want the same fate as Dumbledore and Pomfrey? Is that it?”

“All right,” Sirius sighed dramatically. “You got me. The truth is… Snape did it.”

Umbridge narrowed her eyes. “And when you tried to warn me as I opened the door, Mr Black?”

“I had a premonition,” he said, flashing her a grin and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I’m psychic.”

Umbridge looked at him for a long time. Lily held her breath, hardly daring to make a sound lest she influenced what was about to happen next.

Then, without taking her eyes off Sirius, she said, “Evans, Lupin, you’re expelled.”

“What?” James yelped, leaping up from his chair. 

“No!” said Sirius. “It was me! They had nothing to do with it! I swear, I did it all myself, they didn’t know a thing.”

“Lily didn’t know a thing,” Remus corrected him. His voice sounded hollow. “I did. Expel me if you want, but Lily didn’t do anything.”

Umbridge looked at him triumphantly. “The truth at last. I should have known; it’s always the quiet ones pulling the strings.”

“He’s not pulling my anything,” Sirius scoffed, and Remus coughed. “It was my idea. And if Lily had known about it, she never would have let me.”

“You can’t do this,” James said. His voice was shaking, and he was gripping her hand so hard it almost hurt.

Lily sat, listening to her friends defending her, begging for her to keep her place at the school, offering to take the fall for her. She felt a rush of love for each of them.

“My decision is final,” said Umbridge. “Tomorrow you will both leave the premises for good. I’ll give you tonight to pack up your things, and arrange for transport home. But I will be calling your parents the moment you leave this office.”

“Expel me too,” said Sirius, standing and slamming his hands down on Umbridge’s desk. “It was me. I flooded the basement to humiliate you and disrupt detentions. I painted the graffiti in the entrance hall. I talked Remus into helping me. I’ve been trying to break every bloody rule you’ve set. Expel me too.”

“Sit down, Black. You are letting your emotions run away with you.”

“Why are you expelling Lily?” James demanded. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s obvious,” Remus said, bitterly. “It’s because of your parents - they’ve made big donations to this school, and Sirius’s are on the board. So she can’t expel you. Isn’t that right?”

“It is not,” Umbridge said.

“Of course it is!” Sirius burst out. “What else could it be?”

And Lily realised. “Oh,” she said, and the others turned to look at her. It was the first word she had spoken since hearing her fate. “Oh, I see. It’s not because of their parents, is it? It’s because of mine.”

Umbridge smiled.

“What do you mean?” asked James.

“She isn’t protecting you because of your parents. Well, she is in a way. But what’s really happening is that she’s punishing me for mine. For where I’m from; where Remus is from. Because we don’t belong here, do we?”

“You’re a clever girl,” said Umbridge. “Clever, but corrupted, and that’s a dangerous thing.”

“You can’t expel people for being poor!” Sirius burst out, outraged. “It’s nothing to do with them!”

“Was this what the Blacks wanted all along?” Lily asked. “Was it ever about Dumbledore, or discipline? Or did they just hate the idea of their children rubbing shoulders with commoners like us? Getting ideas from us, seeing your world for what it is, maybe even falling for us and tainting the family name? Is that what you’re all so afraid of?”

“Thank you, Evans, but I think you’re getting quite hysterical. That will be all - please pack up your things and leave tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

Lily was not hysterical. She had not even raised her voice. In fact, she felt strangely free. She wasn’t crazy for feeling like a misfit all these years; she wasn’t angry at the world for no reason at all. The world was simply unfair. The odds were stacked against her, and now it had all come crashing down, as she'd always suspected it might.

At least she wouldn’t have to pretend any more.

*

“This is bullshit,” Sirius said, slamming the door to the dormitory behind him.

Remus walked over to his bed and sat down, his legs buckling just in time, like they knew they had to carry him so far but refused to take him any farther.

It was just the two of them. When they had left Umbridge’s office, James had dragged Lily to the entrance hall so that they could get on the phone to his parents and try to make some sort of arrangements. “We can fix this,” he had said, over and over, running his hands through his hair. Remus had caught Lily’s eye, and knew that they both knew he was wrong. They were expelled. It was over. But Lily had gone with him anyway, looking pale and oddly serene.

Remus didn’t feel serene. He felt furious. Sirius’s righteous anger was only making him more so.

“It’s a joke! It’s criminal! It’s my bloody parents again, taking away everything I’ve ever cared about. The cowards! The fuckers!”

Remus put his head in his hands. “Shut up,” he said quietly.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m not staying here a second longer. If they think I’m going to roll over this time, they can forget it - I’m done. I’m done with this whole bloody place! I don’t give a fig about the inheritance. They can stick it up their arse for all I care!”

“Shut up!” Remus yelled, snapping his head up and glaring at Sirius.

He went pale. “Remus,” he said, voice wavering.

“This isn’t about you,” Remus accused. “Not everything is a-bloody-bout you.  _ I’m _ the one who got expelled.”

“I’m sorry. I wish it had been me. It should have been me.”

“It’s not your  _ fault,” _ he said, frustrated. “You heard Lily. It was never about you - it was about me, and the fact that I never deserved to be at this school in the first place. Dumbledore was kidding himself.”

“You deserve to be here,” Sirius said. “Shit, Remus - no one deserves to be here more than you. You’re the best of all of us. You’re here because you’re smart, and you worked hard. You literally fought off cancer to be here.”

“Well, it didn’t mean shit. Because people like your parents still don’t think I’m worth a damn.”

Sirius strode towards the bed, sitting down next to him and taking his hands. “Who cares what they think? They’re elitist, ignorant snobs. You’re worth a thousand of them - a million.”

Remus shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’ll leave tomorrow and you won’t see me again - Christ, my parents are going to kill me.”

“What do you mean I won’t see you again?” Now Sirius sounded frustrated too.

“Come off it. You think we’re going to stay in touch when I’m back in Wales? You and James and Pete will finish out the year and then go to university and forget about me. You can call and write if you want - but it won’t be the same. Maybe it will be better not to bother.”

“That’s not going to happen. How could you even say that? After everything?”

Remus knew he was being a martyr. He knew he was pushing Sirius away because he was afraid of how much it would hurt to lose him. And yet, all day he hadn’t been able to shake Sirius’s words from that morning. He tugged his hands free.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say that just because I’m leaving. You weren’t sure, and now you won’t have to find out.”

“Weren’t sure about what? What are you on about?”

“You said we shouldn’t tell people about us until we were sure. But - it’s over. It won’t be a problem any more.”

Sirius frowned. And then it was like a light switched on. “You dolt!” he laughed. “I didn’t mean I wasn’t sure about us! I meant I wasn’t sure how they would react.”

Remus stared at him. He looked like he was telling the truth - he was smiling like Remus was just being silly, leaning forwards and taking his hands.

“Remus. I’m sure about you. Is that what you want to hear? I’m absolutely, 100%, hopelessly, completely positive about you. I just don’t know if our idiot friends can handle how sexy we are.”

Despite himself, Remus laughed, and it must have been a signal - because Sirius leaned further forwards still, and kissed him.

All the anger and self-pity left him. He reached out and pulled Sirius closer, opening his mouth and untucking Sirius’s shirt from his waistband so that he could put his hands on the skin of his back.

Soon, Remus was falling backwards onto his mattress, and Sirius was clambering on top of him. He was heavy, but it was a good kind of heavy, like Remus was surrounded by him. Their hips were pressed together - “fucking hell,” gasped Sirius - and Remus still wanted him closer. He took his hands out from under his shirt, and began fumbling with his belt instead. He didn’t know what he was doing - it was all happening so quickly - but he felt sure that if they didn’t do whatever this was now, they might never get another chance.

Then the door opened. “Right fellas, I’ve got a plan - oh my god!”

Remus and Sirius whipped their heads towards the door, accidentally knocking their foreheads together in surprise.

James was standing there, mouth agape. Behind him, Lily and Peter looked astonished.

Remus let go of Sirius’s belt. “Um,” he said.

“James,” Sirius said, his voice a little strangled. “Hey good buddy.”

James turned on his heel and left.


	10. Friday, 4th November 1977

Lily was taking deep breaths, steeling herself to walk into the Great Hall before breakfast.

It's not a big deal, she reminded herself. You've done this 1,000 times before. In fact - she did some quick mental maths - she had done this approximately 1,120 times. If you count lunch and dinner, it was 3,360.

It should be easy. She was _Lily Evans_. She’d started as an outsider, but over the years she’d made this school her own. She was head girl until about three days ago. She was popular with the students _and_ the teachers, which was no easy feat. She was even, lord help her, dating the school's rugby star.

So why did it feel like she was about to vomit?

She wished James was with her. He would walk right in with his head held high. He would probably high-five people as he went, flipping off Umbridge for good measure, because what was the point in being polite once you had been expelled?

Except he hadn't been expelled. _She_ had. And she couldn't bear the thought of all of those faces looking at her pityingly when she walked through the doors.

She should have asked one of the boys to come with her for support. She would even have taken Peter, although he wouldn't be as brash as James. He would probably just be oblivious to how awkward the atmosphere was. But that was its own kind of shield.

Unfortunately, she had left them all upstairs packing, and insisted she could fetch everyone food by herself. They didn't have much time - and they needed talk things through.

James had been so shocked to find Remus and Sirius together that he had barely said a word for two hours. When they sheepishly came downstairs to the common room to talk to him, he had insisted he was “fine” but then refused to hear anymore about it. In the end, Lily had talked to them herself, reassuring them that it was okay, that their friends still cared about them, that they wouldn't tell anyone if it was a secret.

Remus had almost cried with relief. Sirius had just nodded his thanks and crossed his arms over his chest, wordlessly watching James as if his was the only opinion that really mattered. Of course, he was too stubborn to ask for it more than once.

“Doesn't anyone care what I think about all this?” Peter demanded eventually.

“What do you think about all this, Peter?” Remus asked earnestly. Peter looked a bit surprised to actually be put on the spot.

He shrugged. “As long as you're only interested in each other, I'm not fussed.”

Remus laughed quietly. “You're not really my type,” he said, and somehow made it sound kind.

As for herself, Lily _had_ been surprised to find them with their hands almost in each other's pants, she couldn’t deny it. She knew queer people existed - she had read all about the pride parades in New York and London. But apart from Dumbledore, whose preferences had remained shrouded in rumour, she had never met one in real life before. She had certainly never seen them being… intimate with each other.

But when she recovered from the shock it all started to make a kind of sense. They had been so close recently. She had always thought of James and Sirius as the best friends, but lately _she_ was the one James had been spending all his time with. It made sense that as they were falling in love, so were Sirius and Remus. They were so different - but there was something shared between them, a look in their eyes that James never had. Sadness, possibly. Damage. Resilience. The knowledge that life wasn’t always sunshine, rugby glory and doting parents. A determination to make the best of it anyway.

They fit well together.

She just hoped James wouldn't keep being an arse about it.

Eventually, he had broken his silence by informing them of the adjustments to their plan. He filled them in on the conversation they’d had with his parents over the phone, and the arrangements they had made for the next day.

Today.

She should get back up there.

She had to get food first.

The Great Hall seemed to fall silent when she walked in. It was like all the light dimmed, a spotlight found her, and the eyes of hundreds of kids swivelled around to stare at her.

But she was imagining things. In reality, most people were just enjoying their breakfast.

She put on her battle face anyway - jaw locked, lips pursed, eyes daring anyone to say anything to her - and hurried over to the nearest end of the Gryffindor table.

“Lily,” said Alice. “Are you okay?”

They had barely spoken in days. “Not really,” she admitted darkly, feeling her mask wavering already. “I’m leaving in about an hour.”

“I’m so sorry. This is bullshit. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you after all.”

There was a silver toast rack that was mostly still full, so she picked it up and moved further along the table, towards the fruit bowl. It could be a bit hit and miss, but she'd spotted a bunch of bananas that didn’t have too many brown spots on them. That would be easy to carry.

“Hey Lily, is it true?” Kevin Creevey was sitting by the fruit with all his first year friends. “Are you and James really expelled?”

“Me and Remus,” she said, reaching for the bananas.

“Oh. What are we going to do now?”

“It’s not really my problem anymore,” she snapped. He looked hurt, and she immediately felt guilty. None of this was Kevin’s fault. “Sorry. Look, you’ll be okay. Keep looking out for each other. James will talk to you if he needs you to help out, all right?”

“Yeah! Great! Tell him I said hi!”

Sirius and Peter would be insufferable if she didn’t grab something to put on the toast - butter at least, or jam. There was a plate of spreads in little jars that she could put in her bag if she could just get a little further without being accosted. The trouble was, it meant getting closer to the Slytherin side.

If she just kept looking ahead and didn't make eye contact with anyone…

“You're a disgrace,” she heard someone whisper, and she whipped around to look but they were all focused on their food or each other.

She kept going.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” someone hissed, and this time she just kept going.

“Evans,” a familiar voice said.

She ignored it, eyes locked on her target.

“Evans.”

Just a little further…

“Lily.”

She looked up. Damn. Severus had swivelled around on his bench to look at her.

Dry toast it was, then. She turned and started heading for the door.

“Lily!” She heard a scrambling sound, and moments later a hand clasped around her elbow. She wrenched it away.

“Don't touch me! I don't have anything to say to you!”

“I'm sorry.” His voice sounded so pathetic that she glanced back in disgust - and then she stopped.

“Are you _crying?_ ”

“Can we talk?” he asked.

She sighed. “What do you want? I have to go and pack.”

“I - can we go somewhere a bit more private?”

“Yeah, I don't think so.”

He stepped closer, lowering his head.

She stepped back automatically, remembering that awful day in her bedroom at home. How quickly one misunderstanding had turned into something nasty and spiteful. How terrified she had felt when he lunged at her for a second time. How she had thought, just for a moment, that he might be capable of _anything_ and that there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, as if he was thinking about it too. “I'm sorry for everything. For that day, and how I reacted, and for everything this year. And I'm sorry you have to leave.”

“It's fine,” she said. “I don't think we can be friends anymore, but… thank you for saying sorry. Really.”

In that moment, she meant it. She had spent months being furious with him, telling herself she hated him, ducking out of his sight and avoiding being alone with him. But she had loved him once. They had been best friends. She could never really, truly hate him, because she would always remember the little boy who carried his pencils to school in a plastic bag, and introduced her to all of her favourite books, and taught her how to stick her nose up at bullies.

Looking at him now, with his nose sniffing and eyes watering, wringing his hands anxiously in front of him, she just felt nothing.

No, that wasn't true. She felt _tired._ She just wanted to forget the summer had ever happened.

He was still rambling on. “- And if I'd known it would end like this, I never would have done it, I had no idea she would go after the scholarship kids. When I realised, that's when I knew I had to take the head boy position, to protect myself…”

“Wait. You mean Umbridge? How is that your fault?”

He cast his eyes down at the floor. “It was me,” he whispered, so quietly she barely heard him.

But she did. Because the Great Hall had fallen silent. She wasn't imagining things anymore - they were all watching and listening. “What was you?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and a teardrop splashed on the grey flagstones at his feet. “I told the Blacks about Dumbledore. I reported him for what he was.”

Lily went cold. All this time, they had all thought it was random, or some kind of spiteful revenge on Sirius.

“I'm sorry,” he said again. “I was just _so angry._ ”

It wasn't revenge on Sirius at all. It was nothing to do with him. It had been revenge on _her._ She had lost her favourite teacher, her mentor _._ The students had lost their freedom. Now she had lost her future too.

And for what? Not kissing him back?

She thought about Dumbledore being escorted from that very room, little more than a week ago.

She thought about everything they had been through since - Marlene running away, Alice and Frank breaking up, students being hit with the cane, Pomfrey gone, endless, endless detentions. Children spending night after night in a cold, damp basement.

She thought about how terrified Remus had looked the night before, when his secret was out, and he didn't know how his friends would react - or if they'd tell anyone. Or what would happen if they did. And apparently he was right to be worried. Apparently, if people found out and they got upset, even if they weren't upset with _you,_ they could ruin your life in an instant.

“Get away from me,” she said.

“I swear I didn't know it would happen like this.”

“I don't care! It's happened. So why don't you stop snivelling and do something about it?”

She turned, unable to look at him any longer, and left the Great Hall.

Possibly for the last time.

*

“ _Talk to them,_ ” Lily had hissed at James before she left the boys’ dormitory to fetch food.

He sighed. He didn't know how. It's not that he cared that Sirius and Remus were together, not really. He honestly wanted them to be happy. But thinking about them actually _doing stuff_ , in their dormitory, made him feel strange. It was like his skin was too tight for his body. He felt uncomfortable, and protective, but he didn't know who it was he wanted to protect.

Remus, who always seemed so delicate? Would Sirius be careful enough?

Sirius, whose heart had already been broken by his family? Did Remus understand just how much he hurt beneath all the bravado?

He felt powerless, and foolish for not having realised what was happening right under his nose. How long had it been going on, anyway? Months? Years? He’d had no idea. How long do your best friends have to lie to you for them to stop being your best friends?

Remus’s trunk was almost packed. James had put himself on bathroom duty, and was rummaging around looking for anything that belonged to Remus that might have been missed. But Remus didn't have much - he wasn't like Sirius, with his endless pots of hair gel and eyeliner. It was just shampoo, soap and a razor.

He had to go back to the dorm and talk to them. Lily would be angry with him if he didn't, and he didn't want her to be angry on her last morning in school.

 _For now_ , he reminded himself. This wasn't permanent. They had a plan. They were just going through the motions so that Umbridge didn't get suspicious.

He wished it didn't feel so permanent.

He walked back down the corridor towards the dormitory, and took a deep breath before he entered. What would he find this time? Would they be holding hands? Kissing? Naked? But no - he was being ridiculous. Peter was there with them. And anyway, who cared if they were holding hands? He held Lily's hand all the time. Yesterday he had kissed her in the Great Hall with hundreds of students watching.

But this was different.

Wasn't it?

He honestly didn't know.

He opened the door. Remus was sitting on his bed, cross legged, trunk closed and locked up at his feet. Sirius - James felt guilty at how relieved he was - was standing by the door. Peter was sitting on his own bed, nervously biting his nails.

“There was nothing in the bathroom, Remus. I think we've got it all. I should probably go to the girls’ dorm and start looking at Lily's stuff…”

“Evans doesn't want you sniffing her underwear, you pervert,” snorted Sirius.

“Wait here, James,” Remus said gently. “I want to say goodbye.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” James reminded him.

“Not to you. To the room. It… I don't know when I'll be back, you know?”

“Tomorrow,” James insisted. “You'll be back tomorrow. It's all a show.”

“Maybe. Just in case, though.”

James nodded, and sat on his own bed. They were each silent for a moment, looking around the room like it might tell them what to say next.

“Do you remember our first night here?” asked Peter.

James was surprised - Peter was great at following conversations, chipping in with jokes and laughing in the right places, but he rarely initiated a topic.

“You were terrified,” James told him, smiling.

“It was terrifying! You two were already best mates,” he pointed accusingly at James and Sirius, “and Remus was practically a mute… I didn’t know what I'd got myself into.”

“I still don't,” Remus said.

“We weren't that bad. We were just a bit… excited. We'd met on the train and discovered our shared love of sugar mice…” James couldn't help grinning at the memory of finding his best friend for the first time. His childhood had been happy, but lonely. He had always been desperate for a brother to make mischief with. Meeting Sirius had felt like a miracle.

“You tried to make a blood oath,” Remus reminded him. “On the _first day._ And you tried to make us do it too.”

“Yeah, I stand by that. It would have really cemented our friendship.”

“We weren't friends yet!”

“But I knew we would be. And I was right!”

“You were mad.”

“That too.”

“Enough with the trip down memory lane,” Sirius snapped. “James, do you hate us now, or what?”

“Pardon?”

“Me and Remus. Because we're not going to stop being together if you don't like it. That's _your_ problem, not ours. And if you think it's disgusting, you should just tell us now and get it over with, rather than pretending it didn't happen.” His fists were balled up at his sides, like he was about to start punching someone. It was a look he often got around Snape; James couldn’t believe he was on the receiving end of it.

Remus, meanwhile, was looking at him in complete astonishment, his mouth open. Then he smiled, and blushed a little.

“I don't hate you,” James said. “I couldn’t. I _wouldn’t._ It's just going to take some getting used to.”

“Thank you, James,” Remus said, gently.

“Why?” Sirius demanded, with significantly less gratitude. “When you got with Evans, it didn't take _me_ any getting used to.”

“Yeah, it did,” Peter pointed out. “You barely talked to him for a week.”

“That was different,” Sirius insisted. “He'd lied about it.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. Well, we didn't know how you'd react, did we?”

But he had deflated, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets petulantly. He started scuffing the floor with his shoe.

James took a deep breath. “I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me,” he said truthfully, looking both of them in the eyes in turn. “I'm sorry you ever thought I'd hate you. I can't lie, it's all a bit weird.”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but James kept going.

“But only because you're like my brothers. And so thinking of you together is kind of horrible. But not because you're blokes! Because you're… you.”

Remus smiled. “It was a little strange for us too, you know. We've been getting used to it all week.”

“This has only been going on a week?” James asked. He felt the clouds parting. “Well that's all right then! I thought you'd been shagging for _years…_ ”

To his surprise, it was Remus who laughed and Sirius who turned bright red.

“And at which point did you think we were doing all this shagging?” asked Remus. “We couldn’t even have five minutes without you bursting in here like an overgrown antelope.”

James laughed, and then so did Remus, and suddenly they were all in stitches, even though the joke hadn’t been that funny.

The door opened, and Lily came in looking flustered, bananas in one hand a rack of toast in the other - she had clearly just swiped it straight from the table.

“Oh good,” she said briskly. “You’re all friends again, then?”

“We were always friends,” James said. Then he saw the look on her face. She was smiling, but it was strained. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Sort of. We should eat first though.” She put down the food in the middle of the floor and then sat down cross-legged, tearing a banana away from the bunch and peeling it.

They joined her. It felt cosy to be sitting and eating on the floor - like a midnight feast at eight in the morning.

“Oh,” Sirius said, taking some toast and looking disappointed. “No butter?”

*

After breakfast, everyone who hadn’t been expelled the night before had to go to their classes. Remus looked away awkwardly as Lily and James locked lips. Should he be kissing Sirius goodbye, now that they were all out in the open? Sirius _had_ told James they were “together”. But were they together in the way James and Lily were together? Was Sirius his boyfriend?

The word seemed too silly and childish, while also being too grown up and official. But everything else was even worse. They weren’t partners, or sweethearts, or _lovers._

They were just “together”.

In the end, Sirius just nodded and slapped him on the shoulder with a “See you later?”

Remus had nodded back automatically, then realised. But before he could point out the obvious - he wouldn’t see him later, he’d been expelled, that was the whole point - Sirius had slipped away, leaving him alone with Lily.

She still looked a little upset. She had told them her discovery, how it was Snape who had got Dumbledore in trouble as revenge for some incident over summer. She didn’t say what, but James had started grinding his teeth furiously.

Honestly, Remus didn’t think it mattered who had started it all when the end result was the same. But Sirius had looked relieved to hear that he wasn’t entirely the cause of it all, so that was something.

It didn’t help Lily though.

He wondered if there was anything he could do to help her.

He wondered how they would fill the next 24 hours alone together.

“I need to pack my things up,” she told him, finally looking away from the door James had left through. “Do you want to keep me company?”

There was something different about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Her voice had changed for one thing - she had slipped back into a Northern lilt that she must have been been suppressing for years, as if she no longer cared what her wealthier classmates thought of her. But it was more than just her accent; she sounded harder, more defensive, ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

“If you’d like,” he said, and she nodded, so he followed her to the common room and then up the girls’ staircase.

He had never been to a girl’s dormitory before. Parties always seemed to take place in the common room or, if they were smaller, in one of the boys’ dorms. Sirius had been there a few times, usually with a girl after one of said parties. When he was 14, James had tried to break in during a particularly stalkerish phase of his Lily obsession. When he was 12, Peter had run down the corridor in his pants for a dare.

But it had always remained a mystery to Remus. His first thought was that it smelled different - and then he realised that was because it didn’t smell quite so much like sweat. His next thought, as he followed Lily through a door into her room, was that girls seemed to own a lot more _stuff._ He had expected it to be clean and tidy, but almost every surface was littered with shiny bottles, hair brushes, and discarded magazines.

One corner was emptier than the others - he guessed it was Marlene’s - but even that bed was covered in books and clothes, like the girls were using it for their overspill.

“Er - how long do you think this will take?” he asked.

Lily looked at him in surprise. “Got somewhere to be?”

He shook his head, no.

“There’s a record player on the desk. Put on some music if you like - Marlene took all of the punk with her, but to be honest, it’s never been my thing anyway.”

He smiled. “Me neither. Don’t tell Sirius though.” He walked over to the desk and started flipping through the records. He wondered which belonged to Lily, and which were Dorcas or Alice’s. There was an impressive amount of funk and soul, he noted appreciatively, briefly considering putting on the first album by Betty Davis. But then he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.

“Lily,” he said, holding it up. “Is this yours?”

She looked over and started blushing furiously. “I was young! Everyone liked ABBA when they were 14!”

He grinned wider, and picked up another album which featured a strange glass helicopter on the front. “Didn’t this come out last year?”

She covered her face with her hands and mumbled, “Yes.” Then she peeped through the cracks in her fingers. “Don’t tell James? He’ll finally realise how uncool I am.”

He laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me. I’m putting this on though.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to murder you,” she said, but she was laughing.

Remus was pleased. He’d always liked Lily; she was obviously clever and passionate, and she had borne James’s constant flirting with her fairly well over the years. (Or at least, she hadn't actually murdered him like she had always threatened.) But they had never spent much time together by themselves before. It was a relief to find that they could make each other laugh, even when their world was falling apart.

And she had been amazing the night before. Hearing her say that his friends still loved him, despite his queerness, had filled a hole in his heart he hadn't even realised he had. The least he could do, now, was try to cheer her up on such a horrible day.

He put the record on, and guitar strumming filled the room. “Everybody screamed,” he sang under his breath, moving to look at the stacks of books on the desk. “When I kissed the teacher…”

Lily gasped. “You!”

He turned his head. She was pointing her whole arm at him, her mouth hanging open. He grinned at her. “Oh, you think you're the only secret ABBA fan in this school?”

“Good grief. Forget James and Sirius, why aren't you and I dating?”

“Sorry. I think we should just be good friends.” He held out his hand. She took it, laughing, and he spun her around under his arm. Before he knew what had come over him, they were dancing around the room, singing at the top of their lungs as they threw her possessions carelessly into her trunk.

Fifteen minutes later, she was using a hairbrush as a microphone while jumping up and down on her bed. He was on his knees pointing up at her, wearing an orange feather boa she had produced from the wardrobe. “Knowing me, knowing you!” she screamed.

“Aha…” he sang, as low as his voice would go.

She threw out her arms. “We just have to face it this time! We're through!”

The door banged open. Lily shrieked and almost fell backwards onto her bed. Remus burst out laughing.

McGonagall was standing in the doorway, smiling. “As delighted as I am to find that you two are bearing your expulsion so well… I'm afraid I do have to ask you to keep it down.”

“Sorry, professor,” Lily said, looking genuinely guilty. “We’re almost done anyway; we'll be leaving soon.”

“That's quite all right, Miss Evans. And may I just say how truly sorry I was to hear you were leaving?” She looked at Remus. “You too, Mr Lupin.”

“Thank you, professor,” he said, standing as he finally got hold of his giggles.

“Have you given any thought to what you'll do next?”

Remus glanced at Lily. “Erm,” he said.

She smiled warmly at him. “Lots of thought, professor. We’ve got a plan. And even if it doesn't work, we're still going to look out for each other.”

Remus’s heart swelled.

“I'm delighted to hear it. I have no doubt you will both excel at whatever you choose.” She looked suddenly grave. “Unless it is a career in singing?”

“No, professor,” Remus said, as it was Lily's turn to collapse into giggles. “Thanks, professor.”

McGonagall nodded. “Well, just remember that you will always have friends here. Probably more than you know.” And she left them to it.

“Lord love a duck,” Lily said, shaking her head and finally shutting the lid of her trunk. “Let's get out of here.”

But once they had fetched Remus's stuff and walked out of castle, he began to feel the giddy energy of their dance party waning. He kept telling himself he would be back tomorrow. And yet with his bags packed, leaving in the middle of the day felt inescapably final. He was glad he had company.

As they made their way through the grounds, he felt a childish urge to say goodbye to all of his favourite places. Goodbye rugby pitch, where he had watched his friends test the limits of fair play in countless matches against rival schools. Goodbye lake, which was currently being pumped full of water again by Hagrid. (He waved.) Goodbye forest, where he and Sirius had shared their first real kisses just a few days ago…

By the time they arrived at the Hog’s Head, he was thoroughly depressed. Hogwarts had been his chance to be special, to be more than just a kid who had, for now, survived cancer. He wanted leukemia to be just a footnote to his life, not the whole story. Now it felt like his future was slipping away for good, and who could say how much of it he had left?

“Hello, sir. I think we've got two rooms booked? Paid for by the Potters?” Lily asked the bartender, Aberforth.

He grunted, and nodded, and jabbed his thumb at the door behind the bar. It led to an old, creaky staircase - every step seemed to make the whole building shift and moan, like a grandfather being prodded awake during a nap. Once upstairs, four doors lined the thin landing. One, which must have been Aberforth’s bedroom, was shut with a sign saying “private”. One led to an ancient bathroom. And the other two were flowery guest rooms - in the first, every surface was bright pink. The other was green and brown.

“I suppose this one’s mine. It's so… charming,” Lily said. She stepped inside the pink room, walking up to the bedside table and flicking the tassels on a velvet lampshade. “It's like my grandma vomited up a pink lady.”

“Your grandma… eats people?” Remus asked.

Lily laughed. “It's a cocktail. It's got egg and grenadine in it. And gin, obviously.” She turned to look at him. “Hey, are you okay?”

He swallowed. He still felt heavy with the weight of all that had happened to them, and all of the horrible things yet to come. “I just… can't believe it's over, you know? We worked so hard to be here and we still weren't good enough for them.”

She sighed, and sank back onto the magenta blankets of the narrow bed. “Tell me about it. If it wasn't for James, I think I would actually hate all rich people. You should have heard my parents on the phone. I kept trying to explain that it was unjust and that we're trying to fix it - but all they heard was ‘expelled’. They were devastated.”

Remus nodded. The brief conversation he’d had with his parents that morning, before breakfast, had been similar. His parents had spent his entire life worrying about him - he felt awful for adding to their burden.

Lily sat up suddenly. “Hey, you know what we need?”

“Fifty thousand pounds each and a lordship?”

“No way, screw that. We need to get filthy drunk.”

He raised his eyebrows. “It's ten o’clock in the morning.”

“That's noon in Finland.”

“We’re not in Finland. And we're supposed to be tracking down Marlene, remember?”

“Fine. We'll call her parents, find her new number, and have a good old chat. _Then_ can we please get plotzed? The first pink lady's on me.”

And so, a couple of hours later - after speaking to Marlene, who was herself currently wasted at a youth hostel in Glasgow - Remus found himself sitting opposite Lily in a corner of the pub, sipping his second creamy (but not unpleasant) pink drink, concocted by Aberforth with even more grumbling than usual.

“So, you and Sirius,” Lily began coyly, her eyes brightened from their first round. “Have you…”

“Have we what?”

“ _You know.”_ She waggled her eyebrows, and Remus nearly spat out his drink.

“Lily Evans!”

“What? You can tell me.”  
  
He felt his face getting hot. “No. It's not even been a week.”  
  
“Does it take that long?” she asked dryly, and he started coughing. “Oh, come on, surely you've thought about it?”  
  
He wondered whether it was possible to drown yourself in a cocktail glass. “I suppose.”  
  
“I can't wait to have sex with James,” Lily sighed, taking another sip of her drink. “I don't think there should be any shame in it. Women are always being made to feel like sex is bad and dirty, but to hell with that, you know?”  
  
Remus pictured himself telling James about this conversation later, and thought that the poor boy would probably have a heart attack right then and there.

Luckily it wouldn't be an issue, because Remus was definitely never telling anyone about this, ever. If he couldn't drown himself in two inches of gin, perhaps he could drink so much of it that the conversation was permanently erased from his memory.  
  
“I suppose it's the same for you in a way, isn't it?” she continued. “People don't like to think about two blokes together. But it's just sex. It's not hurting anyone. What's the big deal?”  
  
“I... don't know.”  
  
“Have you ever done it before?”  
  
Was she drunk? How quickly did alcohol go to her head? “I'd never even kissed anyone before until Saturday.”  
  
She frowned. “Really? Not even a girl?”

“Especially not a girl. Had you?” Perhaps if he moved the conversation on to her, it would be more bearable.  
  
“Kissed a girl? No. A boy? Yeah. And not just Severus either, I barely even count that. I do have a life outside Hogwarts you know.”  
  
“No one at Hogwarts then? Apart from James and Snape?” Lily had told him what happened between them over their first drink, which explained why James had turned such a deep shade of purple when hearing about his revenge that morning.  
  
“No. The boys at home are a bit more down-to-earth. I'd never really thought I'd be able to make it work with a rich kid. They're from different worlds, you know?”  
  
“They're still people,” Remus said. He thought of Sirius - who was easily richer than all of them put together, including James - and how unhappy his family had made him.  
  
“Mmm.” She clearly saw right through him. “You and Black have always been oddly alike though.”  
  
“Alike?” He honestly couldn't think of anyone more different than himself. He'd started to think that was why they fancied each other so much.  
  
“You're both just boys, aren't you? Lost boys who want to be loved.”  
  
Remus downed the rest of his drink.  
  
*

It had been torture, honestly, going the whole day without seeing Remus. It wasn’t only that Sirius wanted to kiss him. He was just used to him being _around_ all the time.

Lunch was the worst; he and James had both been lost without Remus and Lily there, and so Peter had tried to fill the silence by prattling away about tomorrow’s rugby match like nothing was happening.

Sirius had been agitated all through his lessons too. He wanted to pick fights with his teachers, but he had to avoid getting sent to Umbridge again. “Just one day, mate,” James had told him. “One day keeping out of trouble, and then we can give her hell.”

So instead he had let out his energy by slowly blacking out the pages of his workbooks with a pencil. By the end of the day his fingers and the cuffs of his white shirt were black with lead.

But then it was finally over. He wolfed down dinner in record time. Umbridge stood and told them that detentions would be held in the Great Hall, because the basement was now being “renovated”, but he managed to slip out with the Slytherins.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus hissed, suddenly appearing by his side - which was just like him, the sneaky bugger. “Surely you haven't been let off for vandalising school property?”

“What can I say, Reg? Women can’t help but love me. You wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

They were in the entrance hall. Sirius looked around, checking to make sure no teachers were watching him as he edged towards the doors. “What are you harping on about now? Spit it out.”

“Rumour has it women don’t love you half as much as men do. That is, one man in particular…”

Sirius frowned. Regulus was smirking at him the way he always did when he knew Sirius was about to get caught. Did he know about Remus, or was he bluffing? He had been stirring up rumours about Sirius to their parents all summer, but had he seen something that finally confirmed it?

Did it even matter?

“As a member of the Disciplinary Squad, I could have you caned, you know. And how do you think Professor Umbridge will take the news that there's been sodomy in the Gryffindor boys’ dorms?”

Sirius saw McGonagall emerge from the Great Hall. Crap. He shouldn’t have hesitated.

“I don't care, Reg,” he snapped. “Do whatever you want.” And then he bolted for the door.

McGonagall had seen him - they had locked eyes for a moment, and he could have sworn she had raised an eyebrow - but as he slipped into the shadows of the grounds, no one followed him.

Would Regulus really tell everyone about him and Remus? He had no proof, of course. He probably wasn't even 100% sure himself whether it was true or not. He was guessing - throwing accusations and rumours at Sirius to see how he'd react. To see what stuck. It was an old game of theirs; it was always useful to have dirt on each other. Anything to deflect a parent's anger in the other direction.

Sirius had stopped playing a long time ago.

Regulus clearly had not.

The Hog’s Head was full and warm when he arrived, full of Friday night punters from the village. He spotted Hagrid in the corner, and made his way over.

“Hi, Hagrid. Are you still on for tomorrow?”

“Aye, dinnae worry, lad. It’s all in ‘and.”

“Great. And Meredith’s ready?”

“As she’ll ever be. You’ll want ‘er at six, is that right?”

“Exactly. Thanks. Er - you haven’t seen my friend Remus tonight, have you? He’s staying in one of the guest rooms. He was probably with a girl, a freckly redhead. A bit sanctimonious looking? But also like she’d beat you in an alley fight if you crossed her?”

“Not t’night I’m afraid.”

“No worries. I’ll ask Aberforth. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye fer now!”

He went to the bar, where Aberforth had just finished pulling someone a pint. “What now?” he asked, and then started mumbling under his breath. “Place is full of bloody kids today.”

“Er, right. The two teenagers staying here. Did they go out?”

“Naw, they’re upstairs. Cannae handle their gin.”

“Oh. Do you mind if I go up?”

“You ordering owt?” he asked, and Sirius got the feeling that “no” wasn’t an option.

“Whisky,” he decided. “For courage.”

Aberforth grunted, and poured him one.

Sirius handed over his money, ignoring the dirty glass, and knocked it back in one. “Ah,” he sighed. “Love that burn. I’ll just get out of your way then.”

Aberforth grunted again, and then fixed Sirius with an oddly searching look. “You and that girl. No funny business, all right?”

“No, sir.”

He nodded. “Good. She was reeking.”

Sirius grinned. Evans! Drunk before 6pm on a Friday! He couldn’t wait to tell James. In fact, as he walked behind the bar and up the creaky stairs, he began to imagine all the ways he might use it against her. _Black, you rotter, why are you always getting James in trouble?_

_I don’t know, Evans, care to join us for a tipple? It’s breakfast, after all._

He cackled, and once he was upstairs he opened the door to one of the guest rooms. Even in the moonlight - its occupant had clearly forgotten to draw the curtains before passing out - everything looked pink.  
  
He wished he had a camera. Evans was face down on top of the bed, red hair fanning across the pillow and arms spread-eagled. She was also snoring loudly.  
  
“All right, Evans?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice. “Fancy a pint?”  
  
She groaned loudly. He thought she might have told him to fuck off, but he couldn't be sure.  
  
“Another time, then.”  
  
He stepped back into the corridor and shut the door gently. The other one must be Remus's. He took a deep breath and knocked softly.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
This room was not pink; it was a kind of olive green, which was not much better. But it didn't matter because there, sitting upright on his single bed with a book, was Remus.  
  
“Oh. Hello there,” he said, like he was surprised but pleased to see him. As if Sirius would have just gone to detention without putting up a fight. As if he would have let Remus stay here alone.  
  
“Miss me?” Sirius asked.  
  
“Not much.”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
He kicked off his shoes and climbed straight into the bed, nudging Remus with his hips until he was pressed against the wall.

“What are you doing, you great oaf -” Remus began, but Sirius wasn't in the mood for teasing any more. Instead, he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Remus made a surprised squeak, but then dug his fingers into Sirius's hair and started kissing him back.

 _This_ was what he’d been waiting for all day. In fact, ever since they had been interrupted the night before, he had felt impatient and uncomfortable, like someone had struck a match in his belly only to starve it of oxygen.

He wanted to finish what they’d started.

He wanted to burn.

Remus let the book drop. “Sirius,” he breathed.

Sirius put a hand on his chest, then gripped the fabric of his shirt. He realised Remus had kept his school uniform on, even though he was no longer a student. It made his heart ache.

“Remus,” he replied, trailing kisses along his jaw. With his spare hand he started unbuttoning the shirt, grateful that Remus had clearly thrown caution to the wind and taken his tie off himself at some point earlier in the day. Wonders never ceased. He paused. “Hey, why aren’t you drunk?”

“What?” Remus asked, his hands fluttering across Sirius’s back, shoulders and sides like he couldn’t decide what to do with them.

The angle was frustrating him; Sirius felt like he was about to fall off the side of the bed and onto the floor. He shifted and climbed on top of Remus’s lap instead. Remus’s hands, thank goodness, made up their minds and rested on top of his thighs. “Evans is out of it,” he explained, leaning forwards to kiss him again before resuming his work on the shirt. “I thought you might be too.”

“Oh,” Remus chuckled, so softly that Sirius had to start kissing everywhere else on his face too - his forehead, his nose, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. “She can’t handle her alcohol at _all_. She clearly hasn’t spent enough time with James yet. She was completely gone by three, so I took her upstairs and she just passed out. I was a bit tipsy, but then I had a nap, and now I feel fine, really.”

He was rambling, so Sirius cut him off with another kiss on the lips, teasing his mouth open with his tongue and then finally getting the last button open so that he could pull the shirt off Remus’s shoulders. He realised, with a sudden delight, that their hips were very, very close together and so he rolled his forwards and back a little, and Remus’s hands on his thighs suddenly got very tight.

Remus pulled away from their kiss. He looked breathless, and a little wild, and Sirius was thrilled.

“Why are we still dressed?” Remus asked, his voice lower and raspier than Sirius had ever heard it.

“No idea,” Sirius admitted, grinning, and unbuttoning his own shirt. Then he paused. “Hang on. You’re not going to freak out and start giggling this time are you?”

“Not a chance,” Remus said, and he lunged forwards so hard that Sirius toppled over backwards onto the bed. Remus tumbled after and landed on top of him, and despite the promise he had just made, they both laughed a little.

It was good - just enough to loosen the knot of fear at the back of Sirius’s mind, to remind them both that they were still _them_ despite what was about to happen.

“Now,” Remus said, slowly beginning to unbuckle Sirius’s belt. “Where were we? About here?”

Sirius made a sound that he had never heard himself make before, a low moan that started in his belly and became strangled somewhere around his throat, and Remus’s eyes lit up in response.

“Yes, about there I think. And if we hadn’t been interrupted, I think I was about to do _this.”_

And then Sirius’s mind went blank, and there was only Remus.

Later - tired, sweaty, and more relaxed than he’d felt in months, possibly in his whole life - it began to occur to him that things were different now. Which was a ridiculous thought. Of _course_ things were different; he was lying completely naked with his best friend’s head on his chest, their limbs tangled together and their heartbeats only just returning to normal.

But there was something else too. Until tonight, he could have written this all off as just a phase, a way to let off steam during the most intense week of their lives, a youthful experiment before they graduated from school and were forced to live in the real world. It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened to people before. There were all sorts of rumours about _public school boys_ and what they got up to before becoming respectable members of society. Even without the expulsion, he could have made sure that this never got serious. He could have left school and moved away, started dating women, slowly seeing Remus less and less. It could have been made clear, without ever having to speak it aloud, that this affair was only for within the magical walls of their school, and the words of affection he’d spoken to Remus were just the innocent follies of a teenager who was caught up in the moment. And Remus would have understood - after a while, there might not even have been any hard feelings.

He wondered if Remus had it in him to date women too, or if he would become one of those out and proud types, going on marches through London and waving banners about gay liberation, kissing men in the street just to wind up the policemen watching.

He wondered whose side the others would take. Evans would be all over Remus of course, probably marching right alongside him. She loved a righteous cause. James would surely stick by Sirius’s side - no matter how disappointed he was, he wouldn’t abandon him. He might even be relieved, if the look on his face last night was any indication. Peter would go where James went.

But it didn’t matter. _Things were different now_. How he felt in bed with Remus - it surpassed anything he’d ever had with girls. Quick fumbles in the dormitories after a Gryffindor party were nothing compared to the way Remus’s mouth had felt on his skin, how their bodies had fit together so perfectly, to the sheer ecstasy he’d felt the moment before it was all over.

There was no going back now. No pretending it didn’t mean anything. No thought of letting Remus slip away from him.

In fact, he’d quite happily join one of those marches himself, if it meant proudly kissing Remus in front of the entire country. He’d even do it in front of a photographer, if only to see the look on his father’s face when he opened his morning copy of _The Times_ the next day to see his eldest son and heir with his tongue in another man’s mouth.

“What are you chuckling about?” Remus asked, lifting his head from Sirius’s chest and looking up at him from under his long lashes. He looked quite beautiful. Sirius reached out a hand to cup his face, and Remus leaned into it like a cat.

“Our future,” Sirius replied.

Remus grimaced. “Is it that bad?”

“Great, actually.”

Remus smiled, and crawled up to kiss Sirius on the lips. Sirius wrapped his arms around him, wanting him as close as possible, thrilling in the feeling of their chests pressing together. They parted, and Remus lay his head on Sirius’s shoulder.

“Do you think we’re lost?” Remus asked.

“What?”

“It’s something Lily said. She thinks we’re both lost boys who want to be loved.”

“Lost boys? Like in Peter Pan?”

“I think more… in life. Because of our situations.”

Sirius knew what he meant. The leukemia. His parents’ rage. The choice that still lay ahead of him: reject the Black family values and lose his claim to their fortune, or turn into someone he hated.

“I don’t feel lost,” he said slowly. “At least, not right now.” He wondered whether to say the next part, which would surely be crossing another line. But then, when had he ever been one not to say what he was thinking? “I don’t think you can be lost when you’re with the person you love.”

Remus’s smile was like watching the sun come up. He wound his arms around Sirius’s neck and pulled them, somehow, even closer together. “Me neither,” he said, and then kissed him again.


	11. Saturday, 5th November, 1977

Peter groaned as he was woken up at 5am by the shrill sound of his alarm clock.

His parents had bought it for him at the start of his very first year at Hogwarts, but it made such a god awful sound that he rarely used it; instead he tended to rely on his roommates beating him awake with a pillow (James), or playing The Jam at full blast (Sirius), or - if he was lucky - gently shaking him by the shoulder (Remus).

But last night James had insisted they “leave nothing to chance.” In fact, even as Peter leaned over and switched it off, another one started up, this time making a loud beeping noise.

“James? Is that yours?”

There was no reply. Peter rubbed his eyes as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

The dormitory was empty. Frowning, he stumbled around trying to find the other alarm. Eventually he realised it was the one on Sirius’s bedside table - he should have known, who else would have a fancy digital clock that they never used? - and then just as he switched it off, another one started up, ringing like a bell.

“Christ - _James_!” He felt a bit pathetic calling for his friend in an empty bedroom, but he was beginning to worry that they had all fallen victim to some sort of body snatching alien attack. It would be just like him to get left behind.

Luckily, James strode through the door right at that moment, already dressed in his rugby gear, toothbrush sticking out of his foaming mouth. “All righd, Pede?” he gurgled.

Another alarm clock sprang into life - this one tuning into the local radio station, which appeared to be discussing the best time to plant azaleas. “How many of these are there?” he whined.

“Bour,” James said brightly, holding up four fingers. “Dere are bour ob us, silly.”

He deftly switched off the remaining two alarms, and strode back out of the room again, still brushing his teeth.

When he returned, Peter was begrudgingly pulling on his rugby sweatshirt.

“There’s a good man,” James said. “Sorry about all that. No time for slacking today.”

“It’s five in the morning,” Peter said ruefully. He couldn’t wait for his friends to see off Umbridge. All this waking up and sneaking around was doing his head in. And the food was terrible. It hadn’t been terrible when Dumbledore was in charge. What kind of monster ordered the kitchen staff to get worse at their job?

“Yes, yes, but we can all sleep in tomorrow.” James walked over to the window, drawing the curtains and peering out into the dark, rainy morning. “Not long now,” he muttered, and Peter was fairly sure he was talking to himself - and that he couldn’t actually see anything outside. That is, unless the body snatchers had given him night vision on top of all his other impressive skills.

Typical.

“I’m going to wash my face,” he sighed, hoping the cold water might wake him up.

“Good… Good…” James was still staring moodily out of the window. Peter shook his head, and left him to it.

When he returned, James had stopped brooding and was pulling his kit bag over his shoulder.

“Where’s Sirius?” Peter asked. He had expected him to be using one of the showers, but the bathrooms were empty.

“No idea,” said James. “I suppose he never came back last night. He's probably at The Hog’s Head with Remus. I’m sure he’ll meet us for practice.”

Peter doubted this, and James’s forced cheeriness suggested that he did too, but neither of them wanted to think too hard about what Sirius and Remus might be doing at 5am on a wet Saturday morning instead of rugby. So he slung his boots into his own kit bag and zipped it up, ready to follow James.

When they left, however, James didn’t head towards the stairs to the common room, but further up the boys’ corridor.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked.

“Where do the first years sleep?” James asked in reply.

Peter shrugged. “How would I know?”

“Hmm. Only one thing for it then.

He started knocking loudly on the nearest door.

“Piss off!” The voice was definitely older than 11.

“Sorry!” James called. He moved on to the next door. This time, it was wrenched open by Frank Longbottom.

“What?” he demanded.

“Oh, hello, Frank! I forgot this was your dorm. Joining us for practice?”

Frank sighed, and then his shoulders sagged. “Yeah, all right. G’morning, Pete.”

“Not so far,” Peter said, and James elbowed him.

“That’s not the attitude, is it? Not for the day when we crush Gordonstoun and Umbridge into dust beneath our manly heels. Hey Frank, where are the firsties?”

“Two doors down,” Frank grunted. “See you in a minute.”

“Cheerio!”

The third door, mercifully, was the right one. When it opened, Kevin Creevey’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“James!” he squeaked. “Is it happening?”

“Is what happening?” asked James, a little startled.

Kevin leaned forwards and whispered: “ _The revolution.”_

“Yes! See Pete, _here’s_ a lad who’s got his priorities straight.”

Peter flipped him off. Kevin beamed. “What do I have to do?”

“Gather your friends. Tell them to get decked out in Hogwarts colours and come to the rugby stands for 10am. There’s a match on.”

“It’s back on? Umbridge didn’t cancel it?”

“We don’t think she ever knew it was happening. But she might try to stop it when she finds out, so we need a big audience, as many kids as possible. Spread the word. But make sure they don't give the game away at breakfast.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Kevin said breathlessly, saluting sharply and standing ramrod straight. Then he grinned.

James ruffled his hair. “You’ll go far. Ten o’clock, got it?”

“We’ll be there.”

“Oh, and... make sure you listen to this first.” James pulled an acid pink and yellow record out of his bag and pressed it into Kevin’s hands. The boy’s eyes grew, somehow, even wider.

“I thought she had confiscated all of these,” he breathed, holding it as reverently as if it was the Bible.

“Welcome to the revolution,” said James.

*

Practice, while exceptionally muddy, went as well as it could without Sirius there. James was trying not to worry about that just yet. All of their fights and scraps since Umbridge had arrived had revealed an awful truth, one that James had been blind to until the day before: Sirius didn't entirely trust him. Somehow, he had given the impression that he might reject Sirius and Remus for being queer, and the idea made James sick.

So even though it was driving him crazy not knowing where Sirius was, James had to give him space and trust that he would show up at just the right time.

For a little longer, at least. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to storm over to Hogsmeade himself later - the last thing any of them needed was him walking in on the two of them in bed again.

At least, of all of his team, he could rely on Sirius to know what needed to be done. No matter what was going on, they were always in sync on the pitch.

Frank and Peter, meanwhile, looked like they might be about to vomit.

“You’re going to be fine,” James told them for the 1,000th time at breakfast. “Just hold your ground in the scrum and tackle anything that moves too fast. And try not to let those Gordonstoun thugs break any of your bones.”

He had been joking - partly - but it didn’t seem to help. Frank was starting to look a little green.

“Is this necessary?” asked a voice behind him, and Frank’s eyes lit up. It was Alice. “Was there really _no one else?_ ”

“Not on such short notice,” James told her, a little annoyed that she would doubt Frank so openly just two hours before the match. “He’ll be fine - props just need to be strong and determined. Frank is clearly both. The rest of us know what we’re doing.”

“Gordonstoun ate you alive last year,” Alice argued, folding her arms across her chest. “There were _four_ broken arms, Potter. I remember.”

“Yeah, but two of them were on Gordonstoun’s side, so I reckon we’re even.”

“You lost the match, though. So _clearly_ you’re not.”

“Well, this year will be different. We’ve got something to fight for.”

“And what’s that?”

“ _Our freedom.”_

She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Does Lily approve of this? What would she say if she was here?”

“She knows all about it,” James said haughtily, trying to hide the twist in his stomach at her words. He didn’t need reminding of all the empty places at the Gryffindor table.

“It’s all right, Alice,” Frank said. “I’ll be fine. And I won’t do anything stupid. Especially…”

“What?” Alice uncrossed her arms and started tugging at the end of her ponytail nervously.

“Especially if you’re there watching,” Frank finished, bravely.

Alice softened. She bit her lip, and looked down at the floor, then looked back up at Frank. “Of course,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He lifted his chin. “That’s all the courage I’ll need.”

Alice blushed. James beamed, all his anger dissipating. Love! He loved love. If everything went to plan, these two would be back together before the day was through.

Which reminded him - time was getting on.

“Come on, lads,” he said, slapping Frank’s shoulder and standing. “Let’s get to the changing rooms.”

“A bit early, isn’t it?” asked Alice. “I thought it didn’t start until 10?”

“It doesn't,” James said. “But we’ve got an old friend to catch up with.”

Sure enough, when the team walked into the boys’ changing rooms, they were met with a familiar face - and several new ones.

“Marlene,” James said, grinning broadly and stepping forward to embrace her. “You made it.”

“Potter,” Marlene nodded, playing it cool. But then she threw her arms around him. “Is it true you’re shagging Lily now?” she whispered, right in his ear.

“No!” he yelped, letting go like she was burning hot. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, word gets around. And when she called me yesterday there was a certain… what shall I call it… _longing_ in her voice.”

This was news to James, and he felt his face reddening. He wondered what Lily had talked about with Remus all of yesterday. He would have to remember to grill him about it later. “Well,” he said, flustered. “Well.”

“You wanted me for something?” Marlene reminded him.

“Right. Yes. It’s the match against Gordonstoun today. We need your help with some battle makeup.”

“Hang on, this is about a rugby match? Lily told me you were taking down Umbridge.”

“All in good time. So you’ll help? And your friends?” He looked at the gang of young punks she had brought with her. They had the makeup James wanted: black eyes and lips, with several piercings to finish it all off. But their hair was the best part - the group included two mohawks, another bald head to match Marlene’s, and a purple afro.

They were all girls.

“Isn’t Gordonstoun the school Prince Charles went to? And his racist dad?”

“That’s the one,” James nodded.

“We’ll help,” Marlene confirmed. “Johnson?”

Purple afro girl stepped forwards, and slipped her arm around Marlene’s waist and into the back pocket of her jeans. “Yeah, babe?”

Blimey. Was _everybody_ gay now? Is that what being punk did to you? Somebody should alert the papers, because they were getting their hysteria all wrong.

“Let’s give these nice rugger boys the makeover of their lives.”

James had never worn makeup before - in fact, he had teased Sirius mercilessly about the pot of eyeliner he kept in their bathroom. But perhaps it was time to apologise, because as he looked at himself in their single cracked mirror an hour later, he began to see the point.

Marlene’s girlfriend, Johnson, (she refused to give him her first name) had painted his lips black and drawn a thick star around his right eye, each point stretching several inches across his face. The effect was only slightly diminished by his glasses - overall, it looked terrifying and brilliant, and he felt oddly free. Suddenly, he could imagine himself doing anything. He had been nothing but talk for days - making plans, arguing with Umbridge, reassuring his friends. He had told everyone he could that they were going to win this fight with Umbridge.

Now he knew they were actually about to _do_ it.

Johnson had offered to shave his hair too, but he had refused - some things were going too far. Still, he allowed her to fill it with a gloopy mixture of vaseline and talcum powder, and then coax it upright. She had been aiming for a faux mohawk, but no amount of product would ever get his hair to be that obedient, so instead she just twisted it into as many spikes as possible, and then nearly choked him with hairspray.

“Looking good, Potter,” she said when he was finally done. “Your girl coming tae this game?”

“No,” he said, his heart sinking a little. “She’s not allowed back on campus.”

“Braw,” Johnson said, grinning at him in the mirror. “I like the sound of her.”

“She’s the best,” he agreed wistfully.

“Well, it’s a shame she cannae see you like this. If I wisnae into girls, I micht fancy you masell.” Then she patted him on the shoulder and wandered off to find Marlene.

“Stop hogging the mirror,” Peter complained, poking him in the side.

James stepped out of the way. He couldn’t help but laugh at how anxious Peter looked - the girls had given him such thick eyeliner that it looked like he’d been punched in the face. Twice. Then they had drawn black drops falling down his cheeks, like he was crying tears of tar. His skin was so white that he looked more like a sad mime than an anarchist.

“Does it look bad?” he asked, worriedly peering into the mirror.

“No, mate. You look killer.”

“Marlene asked if I wanted safety pins through my cheeks,” Peter confessed. “I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.”

“She was probably teasing you,” James said, although he was fairly sure she wasn’t. He was glad she hadn’t pushed it; as much as he wanted the team to look frightening, he didn’t want them actually dismembering themselves. Plus, the scrum was rough - if one of those pins accidentally got caught on something… he shuddered. It wasn’t worth the risk.

He looked at his watch; 45 minutes until the match started. Sirius was still nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think we should go and look for him?” asked Peter, as if he had sensed what James was thinking.

“He’ll be here,” James insisted. “Come on, let’s go and see if Snoredonstoun are here yet.”

He glanced around the changing rooms to make sure everything was in hand. It was - Madam Hooch had arrived and run through the strategy with the team, pointedly ignoring the makeovers taking place around her. The girls were making up the last few players without punk face. Some had been brave enough to get their heads shaved, and those who didn’t had either greased their hair back, or used the Vaseline pomade to make it stick directly upwards. Those who were finished were customising their kit, ripping the fabric and scrawling slogans on each other’s shirts.

James had already done this too - as fly-half, his red shirt had a number 10 on the back. Johnson had cheerfully given the ‘0’ devil horns and a tail, then ripped a gash in the front that exposed quite an alarming amount of chest.

Still, at least he’d been training all week; his abs had never been better. He grinned. It really _was_ a shame that Lily couldn’t see him like this.

“Are you coming, or not?” Peter grumbled.

“Right,” he said, bringing himself back to the present. “Let’s go.”

The rain had eased for the moment, but there were still thick puddles of mud in the grass. They had to zig-zag to avoid them as they snuck across the grounds and around the sides of the castle.

Sure enough, when they approached the front - hiding behind a bush in case Umbridge happened to be looking out of a window - there was a bus trundling up the long driveway towards the school. The Gordonstoun boys were here.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Umbridge’s face,” James said. “I wonder if she’ll try to send them away? What do you think she cares about more, saving face in front of posh outsiders, or stopping us from having any fun?”

“Stopping us having any fun,” Peter answered grimly. “It was porridge _again_ this morning.”

The bus was getting closer. James rubbed his hands together. He couldn’t wait to see Umbridge squirm. He couldn’t wait to see Gordonstoun’s reaction to the team’s new look. He especially couldn’t wait to prove them both wrong by winning this rugby match.

He bounced up and down on his heels, the pre-match adrenaline already coursing through him. _Rugby._ There was nothing like it! The satisfaction of his team coming together. The exhilaration of kicking the ball halfway across the pitch. The thrill of scoring a perfect try. Why did anyone call football “the beautiful game” when rugby existed?

“Jamsie! Is that you in that bush?”

“Hey,” said Peter, sniggering. “Isn’t that your mum?”

It was. “Jamsie!”

He stood, and reached up to run his fingers through his hair awkwardly, only to get a handful of gunk. _Damn you, Johnson._ “Er, hi Mum.”

“Jamsie, what on earth have you done to your face?”

His parents were striding towards him from the front steps of the castle. They were both decked out in red and gold knitwear that he was fairly sure was older than him. His mother looked and sounded horrified, although her arms were wide open as always, as if she couldn’t help herself embracing him the moment he appeared. His father, meanwhile, looked thoroughly entertained.

“We’re trying to scare off the opposition,” he managed to explain, before his mum pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “It’s tactics.”

Just when he thought she might actually stop him breathing this time, she let go, and pulled Peter into her embrace instead, as he squeaked in surprise.

“I like it,” James’s dad said, patting him on the shoulder affectionately. “Smart thinking, my boy.”

James beamed at him. “Thanks, Dad.” He didn’t care how much Sirius teased him for being a mummy’s boy - his parents’ approval was more important than anything. With no siblings or cousins to speak of, for many years they had been his best friends as well as his parents. They had doted on him and spoiled him, he knew that now, but they had always taught him right from wrong, and encouraged him to stand up for what he believed in. He wasn’t sure he would have had the courage to take on Umbridge so boldly if he hadn’t talked to them about it first. He was glad they were here.

“We just had the pleasure of meeting your new headmistress,” his dad informed him, as if he’d read his mind. “I must say, she isn’t _quite_ what I expected…”

“Yeah, she wears a lot of pink to cover up how black her heart is.”

“I thought she was _vile,”_ his mum said, finally releasing a red-faced Peter. “She simpered through her pleasantries, but you could tell she was horrified to have us here.”

“I don’t think she was expecting us. Isn’t that right, James?”

“She’s had a lot on her mind, what with expelling my friends and turning the school into a gulag.”

“Oh, really, darling,” his mum tutted. “There’s no need to exaggerate, no one’s making you break rocks. Just call her a cunt and be done with it.”

James’s mouth fell open. “Mum!”

Peter was wheezing with laughter, and James’s dad looked a little pained.

“What? We might as well call a fig a fig, as it were.”

“Anyway,” said James, suddenly grateful that only Peter was there to witness this. “The point is, she hasn’t cancelled the Bonfire Night party tonight, or the rugby match this morning. And we weren’t about to tell her.”

“Speak of the devil, look who’s here,” said James’s dad, as the Gordonstoun bus pulled up.

“We’d better split,” James said. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise. If Umbridge comes out and starts making a stink…”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t send them home,” his dad reassured him. “Off you trot.”

“Say hello to Sirius for me, darling!”

“Your mum’s mental,” Peter informed him as they hurried out of sight and back towards the changing rooms. “I can’t believe she said the C-word right in front of us.”

“She thinks she’s a free spirit.”

“I wish _my_ mum was a free spirit.”

James looked at his watch. Half an hour to go. If Sirius wasn’t in the changing rooms, they would have _just_ enough time to run to Hogsmeade and drag him out of bed.

He really, really hoped he would be in the changing rooms.

*

It was strange being back at Hogwarts again. Marlene had only been away for a week, but it had felt like months.

She hadn't realised how much school was bringing her down until Umbridge had arrived to screw everything up. But the truth was, it had been getting to her long before that. Dumbledore’s Hogwarts may have been the most anarchic school in the UK, but it was still a school. There were still bells dictating when she woke up and ate her meals. There were still teachers telling her to _apply herself_ and encouraging her to think about the _future._ She had been suffocating so slowly that she had barely noticed it was happening.

In a strange way, Umbridge shaving off her hair had been the best thing that could have happened to her. As the last of her long locks had fallen away, so too had any fucks she still gave about what the rest of society expected from her.

Now that she had spent a week in the real world, she couldn't imagine living her life by anyone else's rules ever again. Returning to help out her old friends felt like a generous favour that a fairy godmother might bestow on some hapless orphans. She wanted them to be happy; she could see they were trying their best; but she felt a vague sense of pity that they hadn’t yet learned how magical the world could be.

It helped that she could piss off again the moment things got dicey.

And even if she liked her new bald head, she still wanted to see Umbridge pay for taking that choice away from her.

“And you will,” Sirius Black reassured her as she frantically gave him a makeover, per Potter’s instructions. (Well, not really per his instructions. “Make us look as scary as you do” wasn’t actually very helpful, or polite. But Sirius had such impressive cheekbones that she couldn’t help maximising them by slicking his long hair back and painting his face like a skull.)

“I should hope so,” she told him. “I didn’t come all the way back here to watch you lose a game of rugby.”

“We won’t lose,” Sirius said. “You’re our secret weapon. What have you been up to, anyway? Where did you meet all these fit birds? Ow!” He clutched at his eye as she jabbed him with her liner.

“Oh, sorry, Black. My hand slipped.”

“Come on. Where have you been?”

She ignored him. Truthfully, finding a new life for herself had been surprisingly easy. Her parents had given her some spending money for the term, so she was able to hop on a train to Glasgow. When she arrived, she followed a group of teenagers with black hair and ripped up clothes to a dive just off St Enoch Square. It was Saturday night, so the place was heaving with people and thrumming with noisy guitars. Best of all, as Marlene forced her way to the front of the mosh pit, she realised that the band was entirely girls - including the most amazing person she had ever seen in her life playing bass guitar.

She had waited for Johnson outside after the gig, struck up a conversation, and then been invited back to the hostel where the band was staying for an after party. It turned out Johnson knew the owners of the bar, and was able to get her a job there. It also became apparent that she liked kissing girls — and that Marlene did too.

They had barely been apart since.

But she wasn’t about to tell that to Black, of all people. She had to retain some sense of mystique. Otherwise he’d stop being so afraid of her.

Instead, she worked in silence, which was clearly driving him nuts. When Potter and Pettigrew burst in through the changing room door, he was so excited to see them that he almost gave himself another eye injury.

“James! Pete! What time do you call this?”

“Sirius! Where have you been?”

“Chatting to McKinnon. She’s dead boring.”

“ _You’ll_ be dead soon if you don’t shut it,” she told him.

“Is that why you’re turning me into a skeleton?” he wondered. “So no one notices when I’m actually dead? Of your murder?”

“Yes. That’s why.”

“Harrowing.”

She tuned him out, letting him blather away to his teammates about tactics and manoeuvres and tap kick touch try tackles and whatever else while she finished up his face.

“Do we get tae watch the match?” Johnson asked once Marlene had released Black and the team were doing some bizarre, vaguely erotic pre-game huddle.

“If you want.”

But just as she was about to lead her friends out towards the stands, the doors opened again — and a burly Slytherin burst into the changing rooms.

It was Carrow, the fifth year who had been with them on the very first night of detention (and, in fact, the only one Marlene had ever attended.)

“What do _you_ want?” demanded Black.

“To play,” Carrow grunted. “Is there still time?”

“Really?” Potter looked surprised. “I thought you and Snape’s lot were on her side?”

“I’ve been in more detentions than you, Potter,” Carrow pointed out. “And Snape told her to shove it this morning.”

“Oh,” Potter said. “Good. Do you mind, Frank?”

Longbottom had already sunk back onto the bench, looking like he was about to faint with relief. “Please. Be my guest.”

“All right,” Potter grinned. “Hogwarts forever!”

“Hogwarts forever!” the team yelled back - even Carrow.

“God save the queen!” Potter called.

And just as Marlene was about to roll her eyes at the wretched colonialism of even the most well-intentioned public schoolboys, the team chanted back something entirely unexpected.

“The fascist regime!”

“God save the queen!” James called again, even louder.

“The fascist regime!” they screamed back.

The Sex Pistols. They were actually chanting Sex Pistols lyrics at each other, while dressed like thugs and hooligans as they prepared to face kids from the royal family’s favourite school.

It was mad.

They looked ridiculous.

It was the most incredible thing she had ever seen in her life.

“Come on,” she said, taking Johnson’s hand. “We’ve got to get a front row seat for this.”

However, when they reached the rugby stands with Longbottom, that was impossible - the seats were already full of students, teachers and parents decked out in red and gold.

The front row was all first years - the rosy-cheeked Creevey kid had attempted to dye his own skin green, and was holding a sign with his friends that read “We are the anti-christ”. Professor Slughorn had a dragon painted on his face (the school mascot) and Professor McGonagall was standing at the front leading the audience in a verse of the school song.

Sitting in the back right-hand corner was Umbridge, with a face like thunder. Marlene wondered why she hadn’t called the whole thing off - or at least confiscated Creevey’s sign - when she spotted the two parents sitting either side of her, holding a red-and-gold scarf over her head. They had to be Potters. The man had that distinctive unruly black hair, and the woman was wearing a t-shirt that said “GO JAMES!”

“This is so much better than I thought it would be,” she told Johnson, and then grabbed her hand and led her up the rickety stands towards the remaining empty seats, while Longbottom scuttled off to find Alice.

They sat down just as the Gordonstoun team walked onto the pitch, to loud boos and hisses from the spectators. Even if she hadn’t cared about Hogwarts, Marlene would have hated them on sight - 15 clean cut, broad shouldered white boys who looked like they had walked straight out of _Town & Country _ magazine. They each had the same cool, arrogant, faintly amused expression that could only be learned from a lifetime of being told that you’re better than everyone else. They even had the same haircuts - straight side partings with glossy hair slicked to one side across their heads.

The crowd started to roar, and when Marlene looked back towards the school, she saw Madam Hooch leading the Hogwarts boys out of the changing room and towards the pitch, her face impassive.

Behind her, the team were beating their chests and chanting, although it was hard to make out the words with the crowd already so amped up.

As they got closer, and their new style became more obvious, a murmur of confusion started rippling through the crowd.

Marlene felt a swell of pride at how brilliant they looked. With wild hair, ripped up clothes and more eyeliner than Cleopatra, they wouldn’t have been out of place at the bar in Glasgow where she had found a home.

She knew, of course, that most of them came from the same background as the Gordonstoun lot. But it was as if they had decided to reject all of the arrogance and stuffiness that came with it, and align themselves with ordinary people instead, just as she had.

By painting their faces and modelling themselves after Johnny Rotten, they were putting themselves on the side of a working class kid from London - and anyone else who felt like they didn’t fit in. They were on the side of the black lesbian from Glasgow, she thought, squeezing Johnson’s hand. They were on the side of an anarchist headmaster, forced out of his job by close-minded bigots. They were on _her_ side - the side of a girl with a bald head, no qualifications, and a desperate need to shed all of the rules and expectations placed on her by other people.

The crowd went quiet, and the chants became clearer. They were still repeating the same line from the Sex Pistols song, over and over.

“God save the queen! The fascist regime! God save the queen! The fascist regime!”

As they got closer, Marlene realised that while most of the team was looking ahead, Black was staring up at the stands, his eyes locked on one person in particular. She twisted in her seat, trying to follow his gaze - and spotted Umbridge, looking pale with horror.

“They’re wearing makeup!” cried a voice from down on the pitch. Marlene turned back around, and saw the tallest, widest Gordonstoun boy doubled over with laughter. “They’re a bunch of poofters!”

At this, Potter launched forwards, breaking the chant and raising his fists at the boy. The rest of the team was not far behind him - they each ran up to a different Gordonstoun boy and starting screaming in their faces, until Madam Hooch blew her whistle furiously, and they backed off.

Gordonstoun had dropped the arrogant look, and were now cracking their knuckles and glaring.

“There’s no future!” Potter shouted, pointing at them.

Behind him, the team struck up their next line: “And England’s dreaming!”

And as one, they began singing, jumping, and pointing at Gordonstoun, drawing out each syllable in a collective voice that was dripping with disdain: “No future! No future! No future for you!”

Slowly the crowd joined in, pogoing so hard that the stands began to shake. It was exhilarating to shout the refrain at the top of her voice, backed up by hundreds of people. The words were supposed to be taunting Gordonstoun, of course, but they were doing something else too. It was as if the school was declaring that there was no future for boys who wore their wealth and privilege like a badge of honour. There was no future for people like Umbridge, who thought they could control everyone else’s lives and punish any show of individuality. There was no future for people like Black’s parents, who were so disgusted by other lifestyles that they would tear a school apart rather than let their children mix with the riff-raff.

The future was loud and angry, and it wouldn’t stop shouting until there was a place for everyone.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, holding up her hands to calm the Hogwarts boys down and order them into position. They spread out, waiting for Gordonstoun to do the same. Potter was standing front and centre, waiting for the ball. Hooch was also acting as referee, so when everyone was ready, she passed it to him. He started bouncing it up and down, testing its weight and the muddy field, all the while making grotesque faces at the opposition - his tongue lolling, eyes rolling around his head.

“Is he… sane?” Johnson asked, watching with a baffled expression.

“He’s actually one of the sanest people I know,” Marlene admitted begrudgingly. “You should meet his friends.”

As if to prove her point, Potter became very still and determined in the seconds before the game started. The crowds went quiet with him, waiting.

Hooch blew her whistle, and Potter drop-kicked the ball halfway across the pitch, then pelted after it. It was caught by a Gordonstoun boy, but before he could run more than a few steps with it, Black tackled him to the ground, mud spraying everywhere. More players piled on top of them as the crowd roared.

The ball flew out again, another Gordonstoun boy caught it, and then he was slammed to the ground by Carrow, who hit him with such force that Marlene winced. Soon, Pettigrew had piled on as well.

“It’s a bit… _gay_ , rugby, int it?” Johnson mused. “Just a lot of boys touching each other?”

Marlene had thought this herself, several times, and was so delighted that she kissed her right there in the stands. She hoped that Umbridge was watching.

By the time she looked back at the game, however, it looked like an all-out brawl had broken out. Black was rolling on the floor with the boy who had called them poofters earlier, each now sporting a bloody nose. Meanwhile, their teammates were jeering and shoving each other, and Potter had someone in a headlock.

“It’s good to be back,” Marlene decided.

*

“It’s so good to meet you in person,” said Lily politely, reaching out to shake the hand of a squat, balding man wearing a surprisingly jazzy shirt.

“And you, Miss Evans,” said Edgar Bones, education editor for The Times and The Sunday Times. “I hope this trip will be worth it. The Potters wouldn't tell me anything much on the drive up.”

“I don't think you'll be disappointed,” Lily smiled, although inside she was starting to panic. She wondered how the rugby match was going; whether Marlene had shown up like she'd promised, and if they would really be able to pull off the ridiculous stunt with the make-up.

She was grateful that Remus was with her. They were sitting downstairs in The Hog's Head, having eaten an extremely greasy cooked breakfast, begrudgingly prepared by Aberforth. Remus had been strangely quiet, which of course had something to do with the fact that Sirius had joined them for breakfast “just to check in”. Aberforth hadn't questioned this, because Sirius had knocked on the door of the pub and entered from outside; but why would Sirius wear his school uniform on a Saturday morning when he had a game later?

When she asked, he just smirked at her and wondered aloud whether she'd blacked the night out - which was ridiculous, she wasn't _that_ drunk, she had just been asleep - and Remus had turned pink and refused to meet her eye.

Edgar Bones arrived not long after Sirius left to join the others, and so she hadn't had a chance to ask Remus any more.

Instead, they spent the morning filling him in on everything that had happened since they last spoke. The increasingly fascist rules - “no, I'm not using that word because it's cool to 'throw it around now’ I mean the abuse of authoritarian power to suppress freedom and opposition” - then the firing of Madam Pomfrey, eventually getting right up to their expulsions.

She spoke clearly and carefully, and unlike the first interview she had given with James, she told the truth. She said she didn't want to be a doctor, but a lawyer, and she explained all of the child protection laws that she believed Umbridge was breaking. She told him all about Alice, who really _did_ want to be a doctor, and had been unwillingly dumped by her long-term boyfriend to protect her academic future. She explained her suspicions that scholarship students were being unfairly targeted.

For a while, Remus talked about the conditions in detention, and how Sirius had been forced to spend hours locked in the basement alone. He declined to mention his medical history, and so Lily didn't bring it up either. (It made the story better, but some things were private - she knew that now.)

They promised to introduce Bones to other students too - Alice and Frank and Kevin and Marlene and maybe even Snape if it seemed like he had taken Lily's words to heart - so that he could get their quotes and corroborate the story.

It was incredible to recount the last week and a half’s events. But more incredible than that, he was actually listening. He was taking notes in indecipherable shorthand and nodding and asking perceptive questions. She didn't know whether it was his friendship with the Potters, or whether she was actually managing to present herself as someone worth taking seriously, or whether he was just a journalist who knew he was onto a good story, or all three. But whatever it was, there was something about telling her story that felt powerful.

Of course she had no control over what he did with it later. But for now she felt like she was purging the week’s events with her words, banishing the darkness by simply shining a light on it.

“And can you think of any reason to justify your expulsion?” he asked her towards the end.

“Nothing,” she confirmed. _She had done nothing wrong._ The knowledge of this was so clear, so satisfying, she felt an almost religious zeal about it. She wanted to start handing out pamphlets and giving sermons. _Lily Evans did nothing wrong._

“And you?” he asked Remus.

“Um,” he said. “Nothing.”

Lily raised her eyebrows at him.

“You hesitated,” said Bones, not as if he was accusing, but as a simple matter of fact.

“Yeah. I suppose…” Remus shifted uncomfortably. “I did break more rules than Lily. Skipped some classes, broke the curfew.”

“But the curfew was _8pm_! And classes were never mandatory before!” Lily pointed out hastily. “It’s in our school charter.”

“Right,” Remus acknowledged. “But… there was the thing with the graffiti... and the basement…”

“When it was filled with water?” Bones prompted. “Many would call those acts of vandalism.”

“She has no evidence that Remus did that,” Lily said. “Sirius Black is the one who actually confessed, but _he's_ not expelled. Punishing Remus doesn't make any sense.”

“But you did help him do it?” asked Bones, still not giving away what he was thinking.

Remus gave a small nod.

“Does that matter?” asked Lily hotly. “When someone else confessed?”

Bones spread his hands. “Just trying to get the whole picture, love. All part of my job. Tell, me, Remus - are you and Mr Black good friends?”

Remus kept his face carefully still. “I suppose.”

“How good?”

“Very good. We, um, have a lot in common.”

“Is that so? What exactly do you have in common with the heir of the earl of Grimsby and an estimated twenty million pounds?”

Lily almost choked on her orange juice. She had never actually heard that figure out loud before. “Is this relevant?” she asked.

“Everything is relevant. Well, lad?”

“We have... similar interests,” Remus tried, although Lily knew this was also a bit of a lie. “And shared… experiences,” he finished lamely.

“I see.”

“Sirius hates his parents more than any of us,” Lily cut in. “You can ask him.”

“I’m sure I will. In fact, I think I might try to catch the end of their rugby match. Unless you have anything else you'd like to tell me?” He looked at Remus closely.

“That's everything,” he said, not meeting his eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” said Lily. “We'll see you at the bonfire night event later?”

Bones cocked his head to one side. “I thought you two were banned from campus?”

Lily shrugged and smiled at him beatifically until he pulled on his battered leather coat and left.

She let out a breath, relieved that it was over. Then she leaned over and swatted at Remus. “Why were you acting so shifty? We were trying to convince him we’re respectable!”

He put his face in his hands. “I'm a very poor liar.”

“You're not _that_ bad. You keep your condition a secret well enough. And your relationship with Sirius.”

He groaned and slumped even further in his chair. Lily softened a little. “Are you worried he would find out?”

“Most adults already think that teenagers are all either thugs or heretics. The last thing we need is to add flaming homosexual to his list.”

“We won't,” she said gently. “It's not relevant. And no one would call you ‘flaming’, you're wearing a jumper.”

“Sirius, then.”

Lily couldn't contain herself any longer. “What _happened_ last night?”

The cloud hanging over Remus lifted a little, as a tiny smile tugged at his lips.

“Nothing.”

*

Umbridge was incandescent. Never in her life had she met such nasty, intolerable children. She had known this job would be a challenge, but she had thought she would be up to it. Children are like animals, after all - they respond to fear. They can be broken, and once that happens, you can train them.

But she had been threatening that Satanic rugby team in her office for 15 minutes, and instead of looking afraid, they were smiling at her.

For a moment, she felt the first flicker of doubt since she’d arrived.

As she was explaining how miserable their lives were about to become - “mealtimes will now be spent in absolute silence; any student caught discussing anything other than their studies will be put into detention immediately; canings will take place in front of your peers, and you boys are first on my list” - the Black heir sighed dramatically.

“Why don't you just expel us?” he asked petulantly.

“Don't think I won't!” she snapped, although in the back of her mind she saw the stern face of Walburga Black shaking her head.

“Do it, then,” said the smug cretin with meddlesome parents, Potter. “I can spend some more time with my girlfriend.”

“I think she's scared,” whispered the other one from their little group, Peter something.

“It takes much more than a group of insolent teenagers in facepaint to scare me,” she told him, although their twisted, dark faces were certainly unsettling - especially as the rain had caused the khol to run down their cheeks. She had seen photos of young people like this in the newspapers - getting into fights, talking about ripping up traditions that had lasted for hundreds of years, swearing and threatening anyone from a respectable background - anyone like her. It was one of the reasons she had taken the job. The youth were straying so far, so quickly, she had relished the idea of putting them back in their place. They complained about the strict rules, but she was trying to teach them a lesson. The world was hard. Following rules, fitting in, being disciplined, was the only way they would survive.

Except, it was as if they didn't _want_ to survive. That was the worst part.

 _No future._ That was what they were chanting earlier, a nihilistic battle cry they had picked up from that horrid rock group. It chilled her to the bone.

“Yeah, it's not Sirius she's scared of,” scoffed a rugby boy she didn't know. “It's his mummy and daddy, isn't it?”

“She _should_ be scared of them,” Black told him. He looked at her and smirked. “That's why you can't expel me, isn't it? Because you're under their scary thumb.”

“Your mum's thumbs _are_ scary,” mused Potter, before she could reply. “Why does she wear her nails so long?” He reached out his hands towards Umbridge, curled like he was imitating a bird with long talons, and then hissed. The others laughed.

“Stop this!” shrieked Umbridge. Her voice came out higher than she had meant it to, and the boys didn't miss the way it quivered.

They laughed more - a pack of hyenas, circling in on her.

It was - it was _intimidation_. And worse still, it was working.

“It must be sad to be in charge of a school, but not really allowed to make any real decisions,” said Black, cocking his head to the side. “I mean, you've tried so hard to assert your authority, but you can't do the one thing you really want to do. What do you think my parents would do if you expelled me? Would you be fired? Would they stop inviting you to their club? What if they told all their friends - I suppose that would ruin your reputation for good, wouldn't it?”

“Be quiet!” she snarled, leaning forwards over her desk, feeling a sudden resolve. This had to stop. “This is my school. No else is calling the shots. And you two have crossed too many lines - you've spread your horrid ideas to the rest of your teammates, and I won't have you infecting the rest of the students. Nobody is above my rules, do you understand?”

“Say it,” goaded Black.

“You're all expelled. I don't want to see you here on Monday.”

“All of us?” Potter asked, clapping his hands together brightly. “Even Carrow?”

“All of you! Call your parents and go.”

“No need,” Black said, leaning back on his chair and putting his hands behind his head, satisfied. “Our parents are all already here.”

Umbridge blinked. “They're what?”

“It's bonfire night,” Peter said. “It’s the biggest night in the Hogwarts calendar. The invitations were sent out months ago. It starts… well, it starts around now. Did none of the teachers tell you?”

They hadn't. In fact, the teachers had barely spoken a word to her since she arrived, except to criticise her decisions and make tedious protestations on behalf of the students.

She stood, and moved to the window in her office. Sure enough, the car park was full. Adults were exploring the grounds underneath wide umbrellas, greeting each other like old friends, or else walking towards the castle in search of their offspring.

“I'll just go and find my parents and tell them I'm coming home with them after the celebrations,” said Potter. “You've already met them, of course - but I think they might want to have another quick chat before we leave. A word of warning though: if you think Sirius's mum is scary when she's angry, then trust me - you've seen nothing yet.”

They stood and filed out, waving cheerily as they went. Except for Carrow, who glowered at her threateningly.

And even though Umbridge had finally done the thing that she had been aching to do since she had first laid eyes on Potter, she felt sure that she had just made a terrible mistake.

*

Remus and Lily walked to campus that afternoon, with a girl who called herself Johnson and had the most amazing afro Remus had ever seen. She had helped them make up their faces - Lily had painted a black lightning bolt over her face, like a monochrome Ziggy Stardust, and then hidden her flaming hair under a sleek black bob wig. Remus, hearing that Sirius had been walking around with a full skull face, opted for the same.

They were supposed to be in disguise, after all.

“No one will ken ye though,” Johnson assured them confidently. “When I left, we'd already made up half the kids, and they were still queuing for more.”

“Really?” asked Lily. “You think most of them will be punked up for the bonfire?”

“Definitely,” said Johnson. “When your man won the match, the crowds went mad. Then that horrible witch dragged them off tae yell at them, and the wee buggers wanted to help, so Marlene got organising. Said they could start by showing ‘solidarity.’”

“That's incredible,” said Lily, looking delighted. “I thought we'd get the Gryffindors and a handful of oddballs at best - not the whole school!”

“It was belter,” said Johnson. “Yer'r nae bad for private school twats.”

Lily placed a hand on her heart, touched. “Thank you, Johnson.”

Remus tuned out their chatter, thinking about Sirius and the others being dragged off by Umbridge. That had always been part of the plan: a distraction that would simultaneously rile up the rest of the students - the only thing better than a martyr was 15 martyrs who had just won a rugby match - while keeping Umbridge from noticing the parents arriving until it was too late.

But how angry would she be? Sirius was undoubtedly the one pushing her, goading her into expelling them. What if he pushed too far? Would she snap, and hurt him? Would Sirius hurt her back? He felt a sick, worried feeling gnawing his stomach, and his skin was itching to be in the room with them all. But he didn't know whether he wanted to protect Sirius, or stop him doing something stupid. He was so impulsive - one wrong move and they would lose all credibility, and become the thugs she accused them of being.

But James knew that. James wouldn't let anything happen. He would be in control.

Remus's mind drifted, as it had been doing periodically since he woke up, to the night before.

He had been so afraid of getting it wrong, of not matching up to Sirius's expectations or, even worse, his experiences with girls.

The worry had only been heightened by his long, drunken conversation with Lily - which, unfortunately, he still remembered in excruciating detail. At one point, towards the end, she had asked him what men “do”. She had whispered it, genuinely curious and embarrassed that for once she didn't know the answer to a question.

Unfortunately, he hadn't known either. It's not like anyone told you that sort of thing; he was 13 when he first found out about straight sex. They had discussed it late one night in the dormitory, whispering in the dark so they didn't have to look each other in the eyes, swapping rumours and drawing on a lecture James had received from his parents that left him more traumatised than informed. But they had stopped talking about it when they were older; Sirius had been surprisingly tight-lipped and gentlemanly about his conquests (as long as you ignored him calling them “conquests” which, as a conquest himself, Remus was inclined to do).

Slughorn had once given them a lecture about “intercourse” in a science class, complete with diagrams. But there had been no mention of what two boys might do together, and Remus had been too scared to ask, even back when lessons were regularly derailed by the students' outlandish questions.

And so last night with Sirius he had been left with only his instincts, and the knowledge of what felt good to him when he was alone. He had to be guided by the sounds Sirius made, quite literally feeling his way through the problem until - miraculously, but also, of course, completely naturally - he stopped thinking of it as a problem.

Skin. Hands. Sweat.

Now that he knew Sirius didn't find any of it disgusting or unsatisfying, he wanted to try again. He felt a little restless, like the distance between them was now a physical presence demanding to be closed. It was a little bit like the feeling he got after finishing a very beautiful, very rich poem. He wanted to read it over and over, finding new meanings in the words even as they became more familiar, looking at it from different angles, discovering something new and wonderful each time.

And just like when he read a perfect poem, he didn't want to share it with anyone and risk exposing too much of himself. He wanted to keep it secret and special, just for him (and Sirius, he supposed). He certainly wasn't going to talk about it with Lily, who kept asking him what he was daydreaming about with a saucy look in her eye. He hoped she would start sleeping with James soon, just to get her off his back.

They snuck into the grounds the usual way, through the hole in the fence at the outskirts of the forest. It was twilight now, and there were people everywhere; it was easy to slip into the crowds.

Once they were closer, they saw what Johnson had promised: almost every student looked like they were on their way to a punk concert, even the little ones.

Remus looked around, trying to gauge the parents’ reaction. Were they angry? Were they telling their kids off or complaining to the staff?

But, miraculously, everyone seemed in good spirits. Over by the unlit bonfire, which had clearly been constructed that afternoon, Kevin Creevey’s father was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, as Mrs Pettigrew sipped on a flute of champagne and giggled. Peter, standing next to her, looked far more uncomfortable with the situation than she did.

He spotted his other friends talking to the Potters - James's mum had a black flower drawn on her cheek. She looked like the evil twin of a Woodstock hippy.

They made their way over, ducking their heads in case Umbridge was watching nearby.

“Hello,” Remus said, standing next to Sirius, who beamed and pulled him into a bear hug.

“Remy-poo!” he greeted in his best sing-song voice. “It's so good to see you!”

“Yes, it's been so long,” Remus replied dryly, keeping up his part as the long-suffering sarcastic one.

“Hello, Remus, darling,” said Mrs Potter when he was free. Mr Potter nodded warmly, silent as ever. “And you must be our Lily! James has told us all about you, I’m thrilled to meet you in person!” Before Lily could say a word she was swept up in a tight hug of her own. When she was released, she looked pink but pleased.

“Guess what?” said Sirius, casually pressing his fingers onto the small of Remus’s back and sending him dizzy. (Ridiculous.) “It's all going off perfectly. We are officially _persona non grata,_ hooligans not fit for a public school education, eager to join you and Evans in your wayward youth!”

“She expelled you?” Lily asked, looking at James sharply.

He grinned and nodded. “We’re to leave first thing in the morning. Mum’s beside herself of course.”

“Yes, I don't know what I did to deserve such a tearaway,” Mrs Potter said, reaching up to ruffle his hair and smiling fondly.

“I can't believe she actually did it,” said Lily.

“I can,” said Remus. He glanced at Sirius. “You didn't hurt her, did you?”

Sirius clutched a hand to his heart. “You wound me. It was only some light intimidation.”

“Right.”

“It was easy. All I had to do was suggest that my mother could ruin her if she ever got rid of me, and she felt the need to prove me wrong.”

“Are your parents here? Do they know yet?”

“I think I spotted them slithering around with Reg, yeah. It’s fine. They’re just pretending I don’t exist now.” He held his hand in front of his own face. “Do you see me? I see me. You’d tell me if I turned invisible, right?”

“Would you be mute, too? Maybe I’d appreciate some peace and quiet.”

Too late, Remus saw the silly expression slip from his face. _Damn it._ Sometimes Sirius could crack joke after joke about his parents and the awful way they treated him, as if his whole life was a stand-up routine. Other times, on the wrong day, at the wrong moment, you could accidentally cut him too deep, right in his softest, most vulnerable place.

Remus wrapped an arm around him jovially, his laughter a little too forced as he drew him closer. He squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’m kidding, you big idiot. You’re not invisible. You couldn’t be invisible if you tried.”

 _Sometimes you’re all I can see,_ he thought. But he could never say that in front of the Potters. He wasn’t even sure he could say it in private. Not yet at least.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull away as he would have done a week ago.

“Where’s Umbridge?” asked James, looking at his watch. “It’s almost time for her speech.”

“I think I saw her by the bonfire, trying to dismantle it,” said Mrs Potter. “Let’s go and see if she’s succeeded, shall we, sweetie? Lily, you come along too, dear. We’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes, I think they’re over there - aren’t they your parents?”

“Oh my god,” said Lily. “I didn’t see them! I thought they wouldn’t come, they never come!”

“Bradford is on our way,” said Mrs Potter. “We had some spare seats in the car.”

Lily seemed lost for words. “I - you - thank you.”

They left, leaving Remus and Sirius alone, still leaning against each other. Remus put his other arm around him, pulling him into a proper embrace. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Really?”

“I’m fine, stop being such a girl’s blouse.” But he tightened his arms around Remus and didn’t let go. “I missed you today,” he admitted, gruffly.

“You too.”

Sirius stepped back, and then smiled. It was smaller, but far more real than the banter they put on in front of parents. (And when had that started feeling like a performance?)

“You should have seen us this morning! We’ve never played like it. James was _on fire,_ and Gordonstoun looked terrified of us by the end. We should dress like that every game.”

“Johnson told us you got in a fight,” Remus accused.

“Yeah, but only a couple of times. And they started them.”

“I’m surprised you were allowed to keep playing.”

Sirius shrugged. “No one wanted to back down. The schools’ honour and all that. Hooch had it all in hand.”

This was not how Johnson had told it, but Remus decided to let it slide.

They wandered towards the bonfire, which was still waiting to be lit. Lily was standing with one arm around each of her parents as she introduced them, beaming, to James. They looked proud, but - understandably - a little perplexed.

Meanwhile, the Potter parents were guiding Umbridge forcefully towards a large nearby tree stump that Dumbledore had been using as an outdoor podium on bonfire night for as long as Remus could remember.

The rest of the students and parents, many of whom had been attending this event for years, had already gathered around.

Umbridge hissed something to the Potters, shaking her head. Mr Potter just smiled warmly, and offered his arm to help her clamber up. Reluctantly, she acquiesced, until she was balancing on the stump in her stubby heels, beady eyes swivelling around at the parents.

“Hem hem,” she began, and the crowd went quiet.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began primly, tightening her shoulders. “It is delightful to see so many respectable families gathered here to celebrate a great English tradition.”  
  
Remus, who was from Wales, winced. There was a rumbling of discomfort from the many Scottish people in the audience too; Dumbledore usually skipped over that part. Remus saw McGonagall's eyebrow raise just a fraction, which was her version of rolling her eyes.

“Now I know that not all of you know me. My name is Dolores Umbridge. I was hired as interim headmistress after my predecessor was asked to step down.”  
  
“Shame!” called someone from the back of the crowds, and there were murmurs of agreement, until members of the Disciplinary Squad shushed them.  
  
Umbridge raised her voice. “Now I know that many of you will not be used to my methods. You may even decide that you disagree with them. But rest assured, I have the students' interests at heart every bit as much as Professor Dumbledore did.”  
  
“Bring him back!” called one voice.  
  
“Where's Pomfrey?” called another.  
  
“More rice pudding and jam!” called the first. The students laughed.  
  
Umbridge bristled. Her voice became clipped, losing its conciliatory tone. “When I arrived, this school was living in anarchy. Professor Dumbledore believed in letting students make their own decisions. They could come and go as they pleased. Childish pranks and immoral behaviour was a daily occurrence. Such an environment is not conducive to the robust education I know many of you desire. Certainly it is the education students of your stature deserve.  
  
“You ought to be our future leaders, lawyers, doctors, perhaps teachers yourselves. These are troubled times. The old norms are being questioned. Traditions are being torn down.”  
  
“God save the Queen!” shouted James, and for a moment Umbridge smiled until, inevitably -  
  
“THE FASCIST REGIME!” the students responded.  
  
McGonagall's mouth twitched, which was how she smirked.  
  
“That is exactly what I'm talking about. Dumbledore intellectualised anarchy. He thought it meant freedom. But now the fashion is to idolise it, and let me tell you, you would not like the UK if it descended into true anarchy. I'm talking about our shops being looted. Violence in the streets. Our politicians and policemen stripped of their power to protect us. People doing and saying whatever they felt like, with no thought to the consequences.”  
  
“Sign me up!” a student called.

“Shut it!” barked a mean looking Slytherin with a Disciplinary Squad badge, and a small scuffle broke out.

“You are young. You are foolish. You need _order,_ ” Umbridge continued, louder now. The students pushed each other away bitterly. “One day you will thank me for giving it to you. Now - light the bonfire, if you must. Let these silly ideas burn with it. On Monday, our work will begin again.”

She stepped off the stump, pointedly ignoring Mr Potter’s steadying arm and almost tottering over as a result.

There was muted applause, mostly from the Slytherins.

James hopped up onto the stump, and raised his hands.

“All right, settle down, the fun’s not over yet! Before we start setting things on fire - which, believe me, no one is looking forward to more than me - I’d like one last chance to say goodbye before I leave tomorrow morning.”

A student standing next to Remus gasped.

“What are you on about?” called out Frank Longbottom.

James smiled sadly. “Yes, it’s true. I'm afraid good Dolores expelled me earlier this afternoon, along with the rest of the rugger lads.”

There was an uproar. Remus was standing one or two rows back from the front, so he could see without being seen - and he felt the crowd surge forwards from behind angrily.

James held up his hands again. “It’s all right, it’s all right. We broke the rules, didn’t we? Professor Umbridge had expressly banned the rugby club, but we went ahead and beat Hogwarts’ biggest rivals in the most spectacular game of recent memory anyway. It can’t be forgiven. What’s more, we did it dressed like thugs and punks! Quite unacceptable - I assume, seeing as most of you are dressed in the exact same way tonight, that the entire student population is next. Apart from you and your mates, Snapey.” He gave a mock salute towards the Disciplinary Squad, who looked unsure about whether they should be putting a stop to this or not. James continued. “And she had to expel Sirius Black, of course. He was responsible for that hilarious prank in the basement that forced detentions to be moved back to Great Hall again, where it’s warm and dry and students aren’t at risk of hypothermia. Naturally, he had to go.”

The crowd booed and hissed. Remus saw students looking at each other and shaking their heads.

“It’s not right!” came an angry voice.

“Get down, Potter,” snapped Umbridge. “That’s enough.”

That was enough for the Disciplinary Squad too - as one they began to move towards James to pull him down. But they were outnumbered; the rest of the students closed ranks, blocking them from getting near him. The parents began whispering together and looking a little more nervous, but they seemed to be waiting for the Potters to move first.

James ignored it all. “I’ve always loved this school,” he said instead, smiling warmly at the crowds, who quietened to listen, even as they physically restrained his enemies.

He had them in the palm of his hands, Remus realised with a jolt. They would do anything for him. If he told them to attack Umbridge - hundreds of teenagers against one woman - they might just do it. They might do it anyway, regardless of what he said. Suddenly, he air felt thick with danger. He pushed his way through the crowds towards Lily, while James started reminding the students of the good old days, when they could make their own decisions about their education, when curiosity was prized above timetables, creativity more important than rules.

“Does he know what he’s doing?” Remus asked Lily when he reached her. “Things are getting a bit tense.”

“He knows,” said Lily. “Just wait.” But she was biting her lip unsurely.

“Sadly, those days are behind us,” James concluded. “As you just heard, it's for our own good. Except - well, I do have one final gift. See, my girlfriend Lily and I were going through some old books in the library - you remember Lily Evans, face like an angel, former head girl, expelled on Thursday for… what was it… not being very rich, I think? Anyway she loves a library, and we stumbled across our school charter. Dumbledore wrote it when he took over in the 60s. And there was a line that really got our attention. It went… Lily how did it go?”

He looked over at her, and Lily grinned, pulling off her black wig and letting her red hair tumble over her shoulders.

James always did love a bit of theatre.

“Evans! You have been banned from these grounds!” Umbridge insisted, her voice beginning to border on hysterical.

“Yes, yes, we'll get to that in a minute,” said Lily, waving her hand and allowing James to help her up onto the tree stump next to him. She pulled a slim volume out from her coat pocket, leather-bound in deep red.

“That's school property!” attempted Umbridge.

Lily rolled her eyes, opened it, and began reading.

“Section four, item one, point one: All matters relating to the welfare and educational needs of the Hogwarts student body must be approved by a majority of the student body.

“Section four, item one, point two: Majority may be established in the form of a petition or a vote held in quorum.

“Section four, item one, point three: the only exception to the above rule will be if the student body votes to put itself or other members of the community in bodily danger, as determined by the teaching staff.”

She snapped the book shut and smiled broadly.

“Do you know what that means?” James asked the crowds. They shook their heads and called out no.

“It means the adults don't make the rules at Hogwarts,” said Lily. “We do.”

“You are not students!” said Umbridge, pulling Lily down by the arm, she stumbled, and cried out in alarm.

James jumped down after her, abandoning his speech - “HANDS OFF HER!”

Suddenly the crowd rushed forward in protest, and for a moment Remus thought it would all go wrong - he threw out his arms to push back against the people behind him and keep them from rushing at Umbridge and doing something they all regretted.

“Stop!” he yelled, but they ignored him.

“STOP!” James boomed, and, thank Christ, they stilled. He had his arm around Lily - who was perfectly fine - and he was glaring at Umbridge like she was dirt on his shoe. “We may not be students any more, but the rest of you are! There are enough of you gathered here tonight to make a decision about what comes next!”

Out of the crowds, Alice Fortescue jumped up onto the stump. “I propose we end Professor Umbridge’s term as interim headmistress! Immediately! All in favour?”

And with a cheer, hundreds of hands went in the air. Remus stuck his own up too, even though technically it didn't count, but it didn't matter - there was hardly a student present who wasn't voting her out of power. Kevin and his friends were jumping up and down and screeching in delight. Frank Longbottom had two hands in the air, and he was looking at Alice like she was a goddess. Even Snape had raised his hand quietly, his eyes not leaving Lily.

There was only the handful of members of the Disciplinary Squad, who looked overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, and kept their hands by their sides. And - oh yes - over there, apart from the rest of the crowds, the Black parents were flanking Regulus, who had his arms crossed defiantly. 

“Done!” declared Alice happily. “And - and I propose we abolish all of the awful new rules imposed since Dumbledore left!”

The crowd roared and raised its hands again. This time, even some of the parents joined in.

“Done!”

“Care to throw us a bone, Alice?” called Lily.

Alice looked down at her and beamed. “And finally, I propose that all expulsions from the last week are immediately reversed!”

It was a clear majority again.

“Done!”

Remus couldn't believe it. It was  _ done.  _ His expulsion was reversed, just like that. The students had had the power to do it all along. With a few words, and the raising of hands, his future had been returned to him. So simply, so easily.

He felt, inexplicably, on the verge of tears. Did any of them, even as they whooped in delight and clapped him on the back happily, understand how much it really meant?

Another year at Hogwarts. Another year with his friends. Another year with  _ Sirius. _

He glanced towards the edge of the forest, where he heard an engine roar.

“That's enough!” cried Umbridge's voice, and Remus turned back to see her pulling Alice down from the pedestal. This time, when the crowd reacted, he felt powerless to stop it. 

“Don’t touch her!” yelled Frank, leaping forwards.

“Filthy punks!” shouted a Disciplinary Squad member, shoving at one of the students who had just ousted Umbridge. 

“Fascist regime!” someone screamed from the back of the crowds, and then all hell broke loose.

Kids were screaming and fighting each other. Remus felt himself jostled from all sides by angry students trying to get at Umbridge. The parents and teachers finally started calling for order.

“Settle down!” McGonagall commanded, stepping forwards and throwing out her arms in front of Umbridge, who cowered behind her in fear. “You've made your point. Let her leave the grounds in peace.”

For a moment Remus thought it would work. But then someone cried, “For Dumbledore!” and the crowd moved as one, pushing towards the two women. Remus felt himself carried along with them, his feet rushing to keep up and avoid getting trampled. Someone tripped and grabbed onto his arm, and he helped haul them back up.

Where was James? He had said this wouldn't happen, promised that he would keep the students angry without letting them get out of hand.

Where was Sirius?

He looked up, and for a moment he locked eyes with Umbridge. She looked pale and scared, her eyes darting wildly. Remus felt a flash of heat in his chest. It was as if something dark had suddenly awoken inside him, and he felt a fury he'd thought was long buried. It was primal, and a little frightening, but cathartic - like all the years of hurt and unfairness were suddenly howling in pain. He felt his face twist, and Umbridge must have sensed danger, because at that moment she turned around and began to run back towards the castle.

“Go back where you came from!” a Slytherin shouted in his face, shoving at him. “We don’t need your lot here!”

Reason, logic, all sense of decency left him. He felt that beast, the one he had not known he had inside him, begin to take over. It wanted to  _ get her.  _ It wanted - and there was a flicker of alarm even as he thought it - to  _ hunt. _

He pushed back at the Slytherin so hard he fell to the ground. And then everyone was running, and Remus was running with them. Where he had been following before, trying to keep afloat in the angry throng, now he felt himself leading.

There were shrieks and shouts from the students around him.

As he watched her retreating, now only a few steps ahead of them, he howled.

*

Sirius was at the edge of the forest, astride Meredith, the gleaming black motorbike that he and Hagrid had spent the last year renovating from scratch. They had turned it from a rusty heap of metal into a machine that roared and purred, and responded to the lightest of touches.

He twisted the handle and the engine revved loudly. He could see the crowds going wild with delight as they voted to make him and his friends students again.

It was over, he told himself

Except of course he knew it wasn't. Not while she was still here. Not while his parents were waiting in the wings, probably plotting their next move. 

He kept watching. From this distance, it was hard to pick out individuals, although he would have recognised the black and red-haired duet of his two best friends anywhere. (And how long, exactly, had he been thinking of Evans as one of his inner circle? Since they had plotted this mad takeover of the school? Since James had kissed her at that party? Before?)

He recognised, too, the squat figure dressed all in pink. And as she pulled Alice down from the tree stump, he heard the furious cries of the crowd and revved his engine again.

They sounded angry, and moved forwards so that Umbridge became obscured. He craned his neck, trying to see more clearly - and then a pink figure darted out of the mob and ran towards the school. A mass of people broke away from the throng, roaring and beginning to chase her, leaving behind a handful of brawling students being pulled away from each other by their parents.

He kicked out his stand, pulled on the throttle and accelerated towards the running crowd, spraying mud behind him and breathing in the smell of petrol. He grinned, enjoying the feeling of the wind whipping at his hair. (Helmets were for losers.)

The students whooped as he raised a hand to greet them. Up at the front was Remus, who looked around at the sound of his engine. He looked angrier than Sirius had ever seen him. Then he turned back towards Umbridge and sped up.

Hmm. That was odd. It wasn’t part of the plan for Remus to chase her down. In fact, he had been the one who told them they had to be careful, that they shouldn’t sacrifice the moral high ground by allowing things to get violent.

_ “It doesn’t matter what she’s done,” he had warned them. “We won’t stoop to her level.” _

That’s what the motorcycle had been about. The idea was that he would ride circles around her, scaring her enough that she fled the grounds but not actually putting her in real danger.

So why did Remus suddenly look like he was out for her blood?

Umbridge looked back over her shoulder, screamed, and then tripped over.

The students didn’t slow down. Christ. If they didn’t stop running, they would trample over her. A stampede of 50 teenagers might just kill her - all it would take was a couple of accidental kicks to the head.

He reacted on instinct, speeding up Meredith and then veering to the left, curving in front of the crowds before they reached Umbridge’s figure, prone on the floor.

He overshot it, the bike leaning too far and slipping out from underneath him, careening to one side as the wheels spun wildly. He ducked his head and rolled, grateful for the years of rugby training that had taught him how to fall safely. He heard someone shout, and then he looked up to see the crowds coming to a halt - all except Remus, who was running towards him still with that wild, blazing look in his eyes.

Sirius turned around. Umbridge had pushed herself up to her hands and knees, and was looking at him in horror. The bike had missed her by inches.

“You almost killed me!” she told him.

He scoffed. “I just saved your life, you daft bint. Now get the fuck out of our school.”

She gave him one last look, then stood up and ran.

“Sirius! Sirius, are you okay?”

He heard a thud, and turned back to see that Remus had fallen to his knees next to him.

The anger was gone from his face. He was looking at Sirius like he was terrified he might be hurt.

“I’m fine,” Sirius said. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed her.”

“What were  _ you  _ thinking? That stunt could have killed  _ you. _ ”

“I told you, I’m fine.” He glanced over at his bike. “I hope Meredith’s okay.”

“You stupid git,” Remus breathed, and then he threw his arms around Sirius so tightly he could hardly breathe. “You stupid, foolish, idiot.”

Sirius patted him on the back, pleased that the danger had passed. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Remus pulled away from him, and then rubbed a stray tear from his eyes.

“I mean it though, what got into you? I thought you didn’t want any violence.”

“I don’t know,” Remus admitted, lowering his head in shame. “I didn’t at first. But then I thought about all the horrible things she’s done, the way she talked about us, the way she hurt you in that basement, those other kids she caned. I just saw red. I don’t know where it came from. Oh god - oh god, Sirius, if you hadn’t stopped us - I don’t what - we might have -”

“Shhh,” Sirius said, and he reached out to place both palms on Remus’s cheeks. “Nothing happened. She’s fine. We’ll probably never see her again.”

Remus broke down in choking, angry sobs. Sirius leaned forwards and placed his lips to his forehead, then gathered him tightly in his arms, rocking him side to side.

“Er. Are you two all right?”   
  
It was Frank. He had crouched down next to them, looking between them with wide eyes like he'd finally solved a puzzle. 

Shit.

“Fine,” said Sirius, releasing Remus - but keeping a protective arm around him as he composed himself.

Frank, God bless him, just nodded. “That was some fall, mate. You need Alice to take a look at anything?”

“The doctor who hasn’t got into medical school yet? I’ll be all right. Nothing’s broken.”

He shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure. Come on, let’s get everyone back to the bonfire, I think James might be about to light it.”

“Sure,” said Sirius, and he allowed Frank to help him up before holding his hand out to lift up Remus.

He didn’t let go as they walked back over to the lakeside, following behind the listless students, who were shaking their heads as if waking up from a daze.

“Look,” said Frank, holding up a pink cardigan. “She dropped this as she was running. I reckon we should throw it on the guy, sort of ceremonial like.”

“Good thinking,” said Sirius.

They arrived at the bonfire just as James was about to light it, holding a flaming torch above his head.

Frank jogged over to him, waving the cardigan above his head. “Wait!”

James stopped, and instantly seemed to understand the plan. He grinned, and stepped back to allow Frank to climb up the bonfire towards the skinny straw man perched at its top. He draped the cardigan around its shoulders, to cheers and catcalls from the students, and clambered back down again.

“Go ahead,” he said, clapping James on the shoulder.

“Actually,” James said, “I’ve got a better idea.”

He hopped up onto the tree stump, waving the torch above his head. “Oi! You lot!”

The students were restless now, jeering and whooping at him in equal measure.

“All right, I’ll keep it short,” he called. “I’ve just got one more vote to pass. We can’t be without a headteacher, and Umbridge is done with. We’re going to try to get Dumbledore back - I’ll take it to the board myself if I have to - but until then someone needs to steer the ship.”

“You do it!” shouted Kevin Creevey, and Sirius snorted. James looked duly horrified by the idea.

“Er, no, not me. I propose we give it to the person who deserved the interim head job all along. Someone who has the students’ true interests at heart, who lets us make our own way, and who understands why that philosophy meant so much to Dumbledore. I propose the new interim head is the most punk-rock adult I know: Professor McGonagall!”

Sirius laughed. This hadn’t been part of the plan - but then he thought of all the times he had bumped into McGonagall since Umbridge arrived. 

Carrying enough beer for 50 people back towards Hogwarts for the party. Watching him sneak away from detention to meet Remus the night before. Conducting the school song during their illegal rugby match that very morning.

James was right. There had been so many times when she could have intervened to stop them breaking Umbridge’s new rules. Instead, he realised, she had been waiting and rooting for them all along. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who had left the school charter open on one of the library tables, where James and Lily had found it a few days earlier.

“All in favour, raise your hands!” James called.

Sirius stuck his arm in the air, as did Remus next to him - and pretty much every other student present.

He looked around for her, and spotted her standing by the Potters, both eyebrows raised higher than Sirius had ever seen them. She was shocked. Then she smiled, inclined her head towards James in thanks and acceptance, and the crowd cheered.

“Would you like to do the honours, Professor?” asked James.

“I’d be delighted,” she said, and stepped forwards to take the torch from him. 

Then she turned towards the bonfire, bent down, and lit the kindling at the bottom.

The students finally went quiet as they watched the flames begin to spread, licking up the sides of the bonfire, until the whole thing was blazing.

The spell was broken when the guy caught alight, and that ridiculous cardigan burst into flames. The crowd roared, as students began hugging each other and their parents, joining hands and dancing around the fire like little hooligans.

Sirius smiled. He kept hold of Remus’s hand, and led him over towards the Potters. A part of him thought that maybe he should let go now that they were surrounded by adults who might not be as _ laissez-faire  _ about two boys holding hands as Frank was.

But Remus was clinging on like Sirius was his only tether to reality, still shell-shocked from whatever had happened with Umbridge, and so he decided to risk it. If anyone had a problem, they could take it to McGonagall. He had a feeling she would be on their side.

“Sirius, darling,” Mrs Potter beamed at him as he walked over. “Are you all right? I couldn’t quite see, but it looked like you fell from that illegal motorbike you were riding.”

“Illegal, Euphemia? You must have got confused.”

“I’m sure,” she said. He could tell she wanted to hug him, but she glanced down at his and Remus’s hands, and simply smiled. “It’s quite the trick you kids pulled off,” she said instead. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Euphemia, I hope you’re not encouraging my delinquent son?”

A shiver passed up Sirius’s spine at the sound of the familiar voice, and he found himself squeezing Remus’s fingers even tighter.

“Orion,” said Mrs Potter, looking over Sirius’s shoulder. “So nice of you to join us.”

Sirius’s father stepped around him and took her hand, ignoring him completely. She shook it firmly.

“Fleamont,” he said, turning to Mr Potter and shaking his hand too. “I see your James has grown into quite the figurehead.”

“He’s a born leader,” acknowledged Mr Potter.

“It’s a shame he hasn’t rubbed off on Sirius,” said his father, glancing back at him and curling his lip. He had seen Remus, and was apparently choosing to pretend not to notice their clasped hands. “Now, may I discuss this headteacher situation with you both?”

“Go ahead,” said Mrs Potter, crossing her arms.

“Perhaps this is a matter to be addressed away from the children.”

“I think the  _ children  _ have made it clear that they want to be involved in any discussions about their schooling.”

“Euphemia, you don’t buy that nonsense, do you? There’s no way we can simply stand by and let them do whatever they like.”

“It’s not up to me, Orion. Perhaps it's time for Fleamont and I to join the parents’ board to help remind you.  _ It’s in the charter. _ They read the rules out very clearly but I’m sure I could find Lily and ask her to repeat them.”

“I think we’ve heard quite enough from that little tramp for one day,” he sneered.

“Oi!” Sirius said. “She’s my friend.”

“Of course she is,” his father tutted. “You have quite a talent for choosing the most unsavoury acquaintances you can find.” His eyes flicked towards Remus.

Sirius let go of his hand and stepped forwards, suddenly furious. “What does that mean?”

“It means, my son, that every time I think my expectations of you have reached their lowest, somehow you still manage to skirt beneath them.”

“Really, Orion,” chastised Mr Potter. “Is that necessary?”

“Don’t tell me how to talk to my son,” Sirius’s father spat. He was losing his composure surprisingly fast. “Sirius has been goading his mother and me with these  _ insinuations  _ for months. I won’t have him parading around with this boy just to prove a point.”

“Have you thought that maybe I’m not proving a point?” Sirius demanded. “That maybe I love  _ this boy?” _

“I have not,” said his father. “Because even you would not be so stupid as to throw your future away like that.”

“Inheriting your fortune, you mean? I don’t want it. Not if it means turning into you.”

“Watch what you say. You might not be able to take those words back.”

“Good!” Sirius insisted, feeling a sudden rush of certainty. “I don’t want to! You can keep your poxy earlship! Give it to Regulus, he probably wanks himself to sleep every night imagining it anyway.”

“How dare you talk about your brother like that!”

“What is this racket?”

Oh god. Sirius’s mother had sniffed out an argument and arrived to make it 10 times worse. She placed a long, taloned hand on his father's shoulder.

“Our son is insisting that he  _ loves _ this boy,” said his father, gesturing at Remus, whose mouth had fallen open in indignation.

“Excuse me -” he began.

“I  _ do  _ love him,” Sirius cried, cutting him off. “And I’m not ashamed of it!”

“You take that back,” his mother hissed. “You nasty little thing - did that rotten headmaster put you up to this? I knew we should have removed him sooner.”

“I’m not gay because Dumbledore is gay,” Sirius said, laughing. “That’s not actually how it works. I’m gay because I want to get off with boys.”

“Sirius! I’m warning you!”

His father had clenched his fists. Sirius felt his old temper waking up again. This was how it always went - his parents told him not to do something, so he doubled down and did it more, pushing and pushing them, daring them to cross that awful line of respectability that they lived their lives by, to shame their status by letting their loathing of him take over.

His father’s fists betrayed his true desire. He didn’t want to do it in front of the Potters. He didn’t want to show that side of himself, the animal who hit little boys to keep them in line.

Sirius wanted him to show them everything.

“I’m gay because kissing Remus was the best thing I’ve ever done, because touching him makes me never want to touch girls again. Doesn’t it make you crazy that you can’t stop me? Doesn’t it hurt to know that your heir is a raging queer?”

And then the fist hit him, square in the face, so hard that for a moment everything seemed to go black. He reeled backwards, stumbling, and he would have fallen if Remus hadn’t caught him. 

When he opened his eyes he spat at his father, launching blood right onto his crisp white shirt.

“Orion! Stop this!” Mrs Potter stood in front of them furiously, blocking the space between him and his father. “If you touch your son again I will call the police, I swear it.”

“I’m done,” said his father, shaking his hand out as if he had temporarily lost feeling in his knuckles. “I won’t touch him again. He’s not my son anymore.”

“Orion,” Mr Potter said. “Be reasonable.”

“He’s not my son!” his father boomed. “Come, Walburga.”

Sirius’s mother sneered at him, hatred twisting her once beautiful face into something ugly and cruel. “We should have strangled you the moment you crawled out me,” she said. “I never want to see you again.”

Sirius blinked. “It’s mutual,” he told her, but there was a ringing in his ears, and his voice sounded hollow and far away.

Was it over? Could that be it? All those years of antagonising each other, of split lips and hiding bruises and elaborate cover-up stories? Of imagining himself as Earl of Grimsby, rich but utterly miserable? Had he thrown all of that away - or was it simply a small price to pay for his future?

What was he going to do now?

“Sirius, darling.”

Mrs Potter turned and threw her arms around him. “Has he done that before?”

She meant hit him, of course, not disinherit him. “Maybe,” he admitted. Only every time he'd got angry since Sirius was three.

“Why didn't you tell us?”

“It's not your problem,” he grunted, but he held on to her tightly all the same. 

“You silly, silly boy.” He could hear the tears in her voice. “We would have helped you. You could have come to live with us. You will now, won't you? For Christmas and Easter, and until you go away to university? You're always welcome with us.”

“Are you… sure?” he asked.

She let go, holding him at arm's length so she could peer into his eyes. “Oh, my dear. You can stay with us for as long as you need.” She looked at Remus. “And the same goes to you too, my love. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” said Remus. He stepped forwards and put an arm around Sirius's waist. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Mrs Potter said, and she laughed a little as she wiped at her eyes. “Isn’t it a party? Let’s go and find the others. I’m sure James will be furious to have missed all this drama.”

Sirius nodded, and looked at Remus. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Remus laughed softly. “Me? I’m fine. Are  _ you  _ all right?”

“Yeah. I am now.”


	12. Epilogue - Sunday, 6th November, 1977

**_ANARCHY IN SCOTLAND AS PUNK STUDENTS RULE THE SCHOOL_ **

_By Edgar Bones, Education Editor_

_There was chaos yesterday at Hogwarts School in Scotland, as hundreds of students deposed their interim headmistress just ten days after she was hired._

_In the latest twist at the UK’s most controversial boarding school, the students found a loophole in their educational charter which puts them in charge of all academic decisions. Led by the school’s rugby captain James Potter and his radical girlfriend Lily Evans, the students voted to fire Professor Dolores Umbridge by an overwhelming majority. Thanks to the rules introduced by her predecessor Professor Albus Dumbledore, himself deposed by the parents’ board last week, this vote was binding._

_“They are monsters,” Professor Umbridge told The Sunday Times in an exclusive interview as she cleared out her office. “They almost killed me! I never want to set foot in this school again. Their parents should be ashamed. Except for the Black family, of course, whom I must offer my sincerest thanks for their support.”_

_The Earl of Grimsby and his wife, Orion and Walburga Black, are members of the board which fired Professor Dumbledore. They told The Sunday Times that it had been a mistake to hire someone with such little educational experience. “It just goes to show that women can’t be trusted in leadership roles,” said the Earl. “We’ll be transferring our only son Regulus before the year is over. Clearly Hogwarts is no longer fit to call itself a school.” His wife declined to comment._

_The new interim headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, called the Earl’s comments “a load of sexist tosh” and promised that standards would be “higher than ever” in the coming weeks. “I trust my students to make sensible decisions about their future.”_

_However, that trust might be displaced. It is clear that the students in question have been infected by the poisonous wave of anarchist rock and roll music which is sweeping the country. At one point it seemed as if a riot might break out, and was prevented only by the disturbing promise of lighting a bonfire with a guy made in the image of Professor Umbridge herself._

_What’s more, many students spent the day dressed in the “punk” style. They also chanted lines from God Save The Queen, the controversial song by The Sex Pistols which accuses Queen Elizabeth II of fascism._

_“Of course she’s a fascist,” said 18-year-old Lily Evans, who appeared to be the architect of the day’s events. She cited her own expulsion from the school a day earlier, as well as a handful of strict new rules imposed by Professor Umbridge._

_Several other students echoed her words. A boy named Kevin Creevey, just 11 years old, described himself as an “anti-christ” while clutching a copy of the band’s debut album, released last month. “They’re my heroes,” he told The Sunday Times. “Them and Lily Evans and James Potter. I want to grow up to be just like them.”_

_Professor Dumbledore remained unavailable to comment._

*

It was another glorious wintry morning, of a type rarely seen in Scotland but strangely frequent that November. Bright sunshine melted the glittering frost which had gathered overnight, and a crisp wind blew away the last of the dry Autumn leaves.

In a flat in Edinburgh, newly acquired but already well-stocked with books, tea and rice pudding, Professor Albus Dumbledore put down his copy of The Sunday Times and laughed until tears dripped down his face.

*

“I can’t believe him!” fumed Lily, scrunching up the paper and tossing it to one side. “I spoke to him for an hour! I told him exactly what Umbridge was up to! I used facts and evidence and I quoted several international human rights laws! And the only quote he used was twisted to make me sound like I think the queen is a fascist!”

“The queen  _ is _ a fascist,” said Sirius, who was lying across a sofa in the Gryffindor common room with his head in Remus’s lap. The pair of them had struck a delicate balance over the last 12 hours or so, never quite making their relationship clear to people outside of their close circle, but not entirely hiding it either. Sirius continued: “What are you so mad about, anyway? He made you sound much cooler than you really are.”

“He made me sound like some sort of crackpot revolutionary! He didn’t even mention the real reasons we wanted her out. And - and…” She balled up her fists, trying to put her finger on the exact injustice of it. “And  _ I don’t even like punk music!” _

“Hey now,” said Sirius, frowning. “Let’s not get silly.”

Lily sighed, and flopped down into an ornate armchair and onto James’s lap. “I’m never trusting journalists ever again.”

James wound his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as she relaxed into him.

It was strange - everyone had talked about how Umbridge’s relationship ban had made sex and romance more exciting. But Lily had felt tense and awkward the whole time, even after she and James had stopped pretending. She hated the feeling that they were being watched and judged every time they touched.

But sitting in her boyfriend's lap on a Sunday morning, with their limbs tangled together, was something she could get used to. Something about the ordinariness of his hands resting on her stomach, and the smell of his shampoo, and the feeling of his chest rising up and down as he breathed in and out, was all far more intimate than any clandestine affair.

Of course, that wouldn't stop her from doing everything she could to get him alone later. There had been too much excitement yesterday, but she hadn't forgotten what she'd told Remus. She wanted James. All their years of fighting and competing only made her want him more now. If they had that much passion when they disagreed with each other, how much would they have now that they finally had a chance to be - well - passionate?

Plus, if the expulsion had taught her anything, it was to make the most of their time left. Who could say now, with total confidence, how much they still had together?

“Don’t worry too much, love,” he told her gently. “We won, didn’t we? She’s gone. It doesn’t matter what the press say about it now.”

“But it’s not true. Or at least, it’s a wild misrepresentation of the facts.”

James shrugged. “Who cares? We’re all here. We’re together. And no one’s going to make us go to class ever again!”

Lily swatted at his arm. “That’s not what it was about, and you know it. And of course  _ you  _ don’t care what they say about you.  _ You  _ just get called a rugby captain and Kevin Creevey’s hero.  _ I’m  _ the one who’s blamed for radicalising an entire school.”

“In fairness, Lily…” Remus began cautiously. “It was all your idea.”

She glared at him as the others started laughing. But before she could respond, the door burst open, and in hurried Peter.

“Guys, guys, guys,” he gasped, doubling over with his hands on his knees, like he had just run a marathon. “You’ve got to get down to the Great Hall!”

“Oh lord,” sighed Lily. “What is it now?”

Peter looked up, and beamed at them. “It’s breakfast. There’s not a bowl of porridge in sight.  _ They’re serving bacon for breakfast.” _

*

It was, Peter decided half an hour later, probably the single greatest breakfast of his life so far.

*

“Where are we going?” asked Sirius for the fifth time that afternoon.

The sun was still shining, and Remus felt like the whole school was celebrating. Not, as the newspaper seemed to think, by burning down classrooms and declaring the end of western civilisation. No, it was a simpler, easier kind of joy; people were laughing a little more loudly than usual, running freely down corridors, smiling and high-fiving each other as their paths crossed. It was as if no one had truly appreciated their freedom to enjoy their lives until it was temporarily taken away. 

Meanwhile, couples were openly holding hands and kissing in every corner of the castle.

Remus was happy for them, but he felt a twinge of jealousy that they were able to do so openly; no matter how liberal the school had become again, he still wasn’t sure it was ready to see two boys going for it in the same way.

Surely there hadn’t been this many couples before Umbridge arrived? The whole school seemed to have paired off in secret, and now that she was gone,  it was like they were determined to make up for lost time.

Unfortunately, that meant Remus had been forced to drag Sirius through the halls of Hogwarts in search of somewhere private, rather than just going to their dorm room, which Lily and James had already claimed, because Alice and Frank were already in the girls’ dorm.

“It's rather selfish of them,” Remus grumbled. “No one would bat an eyelid if they did their business out in the open. We’ve got special circumstances.”

“Please stop talking about Lily and James's ‘business’,” Sirius said. “And stop wishing it was happening in public, you maniac.”

Feeling desperate, Remus wrenched open the door to a broom cupboard on the first floor - only to find yet another couple inside, kissing like they were trying to suck out each other’s souls.

“Occupied!” the girl informed him cheerily. “Oh, hi Sirius - great game yesterday!”

Remus sighed and shut the door on them. “It's hopeless.”

“I've got an idea,” Sirius said, once he'd finished snickering. He took Remus's hand and pulled him in the opposite direction, down a staircase to the Entrance Hall, and then through a rather plain door.

“Not another basement,” Remus pleaded, as they descended another staircase. “Haven't we spent enough time in basements?”

“Stop moaning, grandma, we're not going to the basement. Here!”

He pushed open the door to the kitchens, and they stepped inside. They were mercifully empty; Sundays were buffet days, so the kitchen staff were given the afternoon off.

It had been a long time since Remus had been down here. When they were kids they were forever sneaking into the kitchens in search of midnight snacks, or trying to convince the staff to help them pull off a dinnertime prank. But that had all tailed off recently - even before Umbridge arrived, he realised. They had been so worried about growing up and the future, they had forgotten to really make the most of their final year.

“This will work,” Remus said, smiling, and as he turned to look at Sirius, he was pushed back against the closed kitchen door.

“I think so too,” Sirius purred, leaning in for a kiss and taking hold of Remus's collar, untucking it from his jumper and slowly undoing the top button of his shirt.

Remus was lost for a moment, reaching up to push his fingers through Sirius's hair as if by instinct. Then he remembered, and pulled away.

“Sirius! That's not what we're here for.”

Sirius's fingers paused, but only briefly. “It's not?” he asked, still using that low, seductive voice that should have sounded ridiculous but instead was making Remus think of the sweet smoothness of honey, and whisky, and that night at the Hog’s Head...

“No!” He pulled away again. “We're here to start planning the Christmas prank!”

This time, Sirius stopped tugging at Remus's shirt, and took a small step backwards. Remus tried not to look disappointed. He had brought this on himself, after all.

“You kept saying you wanted to find somewhere private,” Sirius pointed out, a note of hurt in his voice.

Oh. Right. “I meant to protect our anonymity,” Remus explained. “That's part of the fun, right? When everyone knows we did it, but no one can prove it. We can’t just… loudly plan stuff in the common room like a couple of Peters.”

“Well. Sure, of course.” Sirius stepped forwards again, and carefully placed one hand on the door either side of Remus's chest, leaning in impossibly close without actually touching him, and cocking his head to one side. “But on the other hand…”

Remus cleared his throat and took a piece of paper from his pocket. “I've started a list of ideas. Chip in if you have any thoughts. One: we put a live turkey in McGonagall's office. Maximum potential for mayhem, but there's a risk of a reduced payoff if only a few students see it. Two: we stuff the Slytherin common room with reindeer and Santa sets while they're asleep. The creepier the better. The only problem will be securing the merchandise without raising any suspicion. Three: cover the dining tables, chairs and all of the crockery in the Great Hall with festive wrapping paper. Maximum exposure with that one, but not much in the way of disruption. Four -”

“Remus, stop.” Sirius took the list from his hands, folded it up neatly, and then slowly eased it back into Remus's trouser pocket, letting his fingers rest at the top of his thigh. “We've got plenty of time.”

Remus closed his eyes briefly, reaching out to put his hand on Sirius's hip in turn. And that was all the permission he needed - he pressed his lips to Remus's once more, then moved them to his jaw, then down to his throat.

“It has to be good this year,” Remus continued, even as his traitorous hands started pulling Sirius's shirt free of his waistband. “It will be the last Christmas prank of our school careers. We can't waste it on stinkbombs and whoopee cushions.”

“Why do you care so much?” Sirius asked between kisses. “Usually it takes me days to recruit you.”

Remus sighed, and placed his hands on Sirius's shoulders, stilling him for a moment without pushing him off completely. “I just… I wanted to let you know that you can depend on me for things. Even for silly stuff like pranks. I know the situation in your family is changing…”   
  
Sirius frowned. “I'm being cut out of the will, you mean.”   
  
Remus swallowed and nodded, then lifted his hand to Sirius’s cheek. “But things with us are still the same.”   
  
Sirius smirked, his momentary bad mood lifting. He reached around to put a hand on his bum, as if it was a challenge. “I hope they're not  _ exactly _ the same.”   
  
Remus snorted. “I dunno. You still drive me mad.” He leaned forward and kissed him deeply, allowing himself to surrender to the moment now that he was satisfied everything was okay. “You're still the most ridiculous person I know.” He reached up to start undoing the buttons of Sirius's shirt, then pulled it from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “I still think about you every minute I'm awake,” he finished softly, pulling Sirius even closer to him, determined to extinguish every inch of space between them. Then he smiled. “It doesn’t feel like anything has changed at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I had a blast writing this absolutely ridiculous story, and I will now return to my normal life. (I do hope you liked it though; please let me know if you did!)
> 
> For more on anarchist education at boarding school, [start here](https://www.theguardian.com/education/2011/aug/19/summerhill-school-at-90).
> 
> For more on working class free schools, which began springing up in the 1970s, the BBC has a great piece [here](https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-29518319).
> 
> And my favourite insight into English punk and the Sex Pistols at the height of their notoriety is this contemporary article in [Rolling Stone](https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/a-report-on-the-sex-pistols-119989/).
> 
> xoxo


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